


Unchained

by Umei_no_Mai



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU of Compass of thy Soul, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Concubine Senju Tobirama, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fade to black sex, Female Uchiha Izuna, Fix-It, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Kimono, No Aliens, Original Uchiha Characters, SI as Female Uchiha Izuna, Self-Insert, Senju Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Uchiha Tajima's A+ Parenting, Warring States Period (Naruto), talking about sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 267,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umei_no_Mai/pseuds/Umei_no_Mai
Summary: Compass AU wherein, rather than as Kita, the SI is born as Izuna. Where you are makes as much of a difference as who you are, and changes in circumstances lead down surprising rabbitholes.A role-reversal romance, currently updating Mondays and Thursdays. Also on ff.net.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama & Senju Touka, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna
Comments: 854
Kudos: 1024
Collections: Best of Fanfiction, oc self insertSI





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning to all, this story started life as an exploration of consent, coercion and all the various associated degrees of dubious. Therefore dubcon is a major feature of both plot and worldbuilding. If that's not what you want to read about, please press the back button.

Tobirama did not expect to wake up. At all. He'd felt the seal trap close its jaws over him, felt his chakra ripped from his control just before he lost consciousness; Izuna had finally outsmarted him. Logically, he was _dead_.

Except he _isn't_ dead. This is too strange and consistently detailed to be a dream either. His chakra is suppressed and inaccessible, his weapons, armour and even his happuri and _sandals_ have been taken away from him, but he is _alive_ and not physically restrained. Not that 'unrestrained' means much when he can barely even _feel_ his chakra and he is trapped in a small stone room with Uchiha Izuna between himself and the fragile-looking shōji door.

"Just _listen_ please and if you don't _like_ my offer I'll do you the favour of a quick death before my father returns," Izuna hisses, still fully armoured but coat, sandals and weapons nowhere in sight. Tobirama has already tried to force his way past and out of the door; he'd been thrown backwards with little visible effort, indicating that the chakra-suppression seals affecting him are either _on his skin somewhere_ or else have been carefully tailored to only cover Senju.

Tobirama ponders the mercy of a quick death when it will leave his clan at his enemy's mercy. It is still better that his most _likely_ fate should he fall into Uchiha Tajima's hands, which is to have his mind peeled apart layer by layer so the Uchiha Head can steal every last Senju secret he holds.

He straightens and lets his shoulders relax, hands dropping to rest against his hips with as much space between himself and Izuna as the room will allow. "So talk."

Izuna puffs up, glaring at him past the asymmetric magatama necklace tattoo snaking over the bridge of his nose. "My brother is probably _never_ going to marry, which means _I_ am the one who needs to give him heirs, and I _can't_ because _you_ are in the _way!"_

Tobirama draws in a sharp breath through his nose to snap back at the _utter stupidity_ of that statement, then stops dead as his opponent's scent hits him. Izuna usually smells like ash, dawn sunlight on dew, feathers and a hint of star anise, which he still _does_ , but right now he _also_ smells like…

He focuses on his long-time opponent's face, notes the sharpness of the chin and cheekbones but also the softness of the jaw usually hidden by loose hair and high coat collar, then at the distinct absence of a throat knot.

"You're a woman," he says flatly. He can think of at _least_ six reasons why Izuna would go to great lengths to keep that a secret, so he doesn't ask _why_. Part of him is relieved; even if he _does_ choose to have his throat slit, the Senju likely won't die for it. Izuna will simply retire to breed heirs for her brother and the feud will remain balanced.

"I am a _lady_ ," Izuna snarls. "Uchiha are noble! Kuge! We own the very land your clan insists on fighting us upon! And your _brother_ believes we should bow our necks and deal as equals with _you_ , you who trespass and murder our children and do not own so much as a _field!_ Were we any other noble clan the daimyo would have _long_ since censured you for your crimes against us, but _because_ we are kuge and our lordship here predates his, he turns away!"

Tobirama opened his mouth to snap back, but was interrupted by a loud thump and a bitten-off scream from through the paper door behind Izuna. A _familiar_ bitten-off scream echoing with pain.

"Izuna-sama!" a voice calls, barely muffled.

"Yes Hikaku-kun?" Izuna answers, keeping her eyes on Tobirama.

"I caught the Fatal Flower," the Deathblow says from beyond the closed door, "and broke eight different legs and three backs dragging her home for you. What do you want me to do with her?"

Tobirama's breath catches in his throat; he can condemn himself to death for his clan should it be required, would do so in an instant, but his _cousin_ –

"Broken bones?" Izuna asks.

"Both femurs, cousin."

Tobirama can't help wincing, although he manages to limit it to the skin around his eyes; an exceedingly painful injury and slow to heal without considerable chakra assistance.

Izuna hums in her throat. "Strip her of armour and weapons then bring her in here."

Tobirama waits. Izuna is watching him avidly and he will not give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing him break down. He can wait to see Tōka.

Several interminable minutes later, punctuated by muffled whimpers and garbled muttering, Deathblow Hikaku and one of his squad shoulder open the shōji door and carry Tōka in through it, his cousin's face tight and grey with pain and all her hairpins stolen, long, twisted locks of hair hanging lopsidedly down one side of her face. He can't see any other injuries, but Hikaku breaking her legs would end a fight before it could even begin; a second successful manoeuvre on the battlefield and one ending with debilitating injuries for the Senju side, if their throats haven't all been slit and their corpses left to rot.

"On the floor behind me; bind her wrists," Izuna says calmly, not looking away from Tobirama. "Then put the armour and weapons with my effects and fetch a medic. If there is one to be spared."

"Izuna-sama," both men murmur, the response echoed by at least two more voices in the corridor behind them. Tōka is briskly lowered to the floor –they are at least carrying her on a narrow futon– her wrists and fingers firmly secured with sharp-edged wire and then the paper door is closed again, leaving Tobirama with his critically-injured cousin and his enemy.

"What do you _want?"_ Tobirama demands bitterly. Izuna most _certainly_ wants _something_ from him, to not only capture him and spirit him back to this well-made cage but have Tōka dragged along as well for leverage.

"From you?" Izuna specifies, head tilting ever so slightly. "I want you to father my children."

Tobirama's throat closes; behind Izuna's ankles Tōka hisses.

"The Uchiha have very specific laws concerning concubinage," Izuna continues without pause, as though her demand is not _utterly insane_ , "and if you agree I can keep your cousin alive as well. If you refuse, the best I can offer you both is a quick death."

" _Why?"_ Tobirama manages.

Izuna bares her teeth, fierce and triumphant. "Your brother longs for peace," she says confidently, "and he will be Senju Head one day soon; neither of our fathers is likely to live more than another five years at best if both continue to lead from the front lines; age will catch up with them as it does all warriors. And when he _is_ Head, I want _my_ brother to be able to tell him that for every day the feud continues, _his_ nephews are bereaved by the actions of the Senju. Because if my brother can say _that_ , _your_ brother will bow his head and submit to a peace of our choosing rather than knowingly harm your children."

It is utterly underhanded and brilliant in its simplicity. It will _work_.

"In the short-term, you are both removed from the field which provides my clan with an advantage," Izuna continues briskly, "so the Senju are likely to pull back and stop attacking us, or at least reducing their assaults on our borders. Also, without your frankly peerless sensing on their side they will be unable to target our trading parties."

Also true; a great many of his father's current battle strategies depend heavily on Tobirama's sensory prowess.

"On my side, I hopefully secure my Lineage's succession by adding your blood to mine and ensuring that sensory brilliance and intelligence is available to my descendents," Izuna concludes, "but none of this will happen if you don't make a decision _quickly_ before my father and brother get back. Because if they _do_ get back before you're fully and legally my concubine, I can't save _either_ of you."

Tobirama breathes. It helps that Izuna is utterly matter-of-fact and blatantly mercenary about wanting him in her bed; she has not done this out of lust, but out of a desire to secure her clan's succession and protect her older brother. It makes it… not _easy_ , but less difficult to see her perspective.

He _would_ die for his clan if he thought it would help, but he refuses to murder his cousin out of _squeamishness_. If he does this she will live, he will live, and maybe there will be escape open to them in the future. If he is dead, he cannot do anything.

"Yes." He lets himself met Izuna's eyes for the first time ever. "I agree to your terms."

Izuna smiles, bright and delighted. "Excellent."

"Not with me in the room, please," Tōka says from the floor, tone strained but still desert-dry.

"What, a genjutsu isn't private enough for you?"

Tobirama feels his face flush; he's not _completely_ inexperienced –he is twenty and his kinsmen have bought him prostitutes before– but the prospect of his older cousin being _right there_ is not comfortable, even if Izuna ensures she can cannot see or hear anything.

He is saved by somebody else calling beyond the door.

"Izuna-sama?"

"You may enter!"

There is a pause, then the shōji are opened by two women in plain linen smocks, one carrying a small many-drawered chest under one arm.

"Move Tōka-san into the fusuma room, secure her wrists with the manacles there, ensure her femurs are set and she is not otherwise injured," Izuna orders, "then once she is treated and comfortable, close the doors and leave. Nobody else may approach until I order otherwise."

"Yes, Izuna-sama." The medics easily lift Tōka's futon between them and carry her from the room; the doors close behind them.

Privacy granted, Tobirama stiffens his spine and takes a step towards Izuna. She holds up a hand; he stops. Watches as she quickly and efficiently strips out of her intricately enamelled armour, opens the shōji and piles it outside in the hallway. Then the paper doors are closed again and it is just him and her, both in their under-armour and bare feet.

"What do you want me to do?" Tobirama asks, uncomfortably aware of the defeated note in his voice.

She takes a few steps towards him, but pauses just outside arm's reach. "Where would you like to start?"

So obtuse. "You said I needed to hurry, before your father and brother returned."

"And so we do, but with my squad on guard both Madara and my father will be… disinclined to interrupt us if we are _busy_ when they return to the clan compound. There is time for a little acclimatisation."

She is being oh so accommodating now she has what she wants; Tobirama loathes it on principle. Loathes it so much, in fact, that he immediately decides to push. He drops to his knees and edges forwards, keeping his eyes on her hands –now level with his face– until he is right in front of her.

"Tobirama?" There is an uneasy note in her voice and he likes it very much.

"You asked me where I wanted to start," he says, half spite and half daring as he tips his face up to meet her eyes up the length of her torso. "And I want to unlace your hakama and taste you."

He has _never_ been so bold, not with the Uzumaki who'd taught him to do this or with the prostitute his cousins had hired for him for the night a week after his most recent birthday. He half-expects Izuna to kick him across the room.

She does not. Instead her eyes bleed red –Tobirama can't help flinching but doesn't _dare_ look away, not now– and she considers him thoughtfully.

"Is that really what you _want?"_

Tobirama opens his mouth and pauses. Yes, he _does_ want to. Mostly because he is very sure that given a little time and effort he can make her voice crack when saying his name, which would be _extremely satisfying_ considering his current predicament and what she has coerced him into agreeing to. And yet, he does not get the impression that is what Izuna was _asking_.

"Lust really isn't your thing, is it," Izuna muses, sharingan still spinning ever so slowly.

"No," Tobirama agrees without an ounce of shame.

"Hm." Izuna taps her own thigh idly. "It can grease the wheels a little, in moderation. Make things less awkward."

"What exactly are you offering?"

"I am very good at genjutsu," Izuna says matter-of-factly, "and lust is not hard to induce. It won't stick for very long, but it would be enough to get us both in the mood. I certainly have difficulty enjoying myself without a little push to get me moving."

A vulnerability offered, but also a test. Then again, she has his life and mind in her hands, so what is one more step when he is already well _past_ madness?

"Very well."

Izuna smiles, sharingan whirling a little faster, and then Tobirama's blood and mind are _hot_.

Her trouser ties resist him, but not for many seconds; her skin tastes _amazing_ and the way her breath catches when he daringly closes his teeth over her hipbone makes him want to _bite_ her. He wants–

–oh he _wants_ –

* * *

Tobirama washes his face again, purely because he can; Izuna warmed the water in the deep sink back almost to scalding before leaving on legs that were markedly steadier than her initial stumble to the washroom. Then he picks up the towel left behind for him and eyes the neat pile of clothing on the shelf.

Long underwear and Uchiha indigoes, the outer layer more akin to what he considers formalwear than everyday dress and not something he has ever worn himself. But he knows how to put them on now. If only for having helped Izuna take hers _off_.

He should not have agreed to the lust genjutsu, no matter how 'minor' it supposedly was; he does _not_ wish to experience a more potent version if that was 'just' an aid. If he had _not_ agreed, he would probably feel less conflicted right now. He would have kept his head while being intimate with her.

He most likely would not have enjoyed it so much either.

Shaking his head sharply to dislodge that supremely unhelpful thought, Tobirama briskly dries himself off in the tiny, curtained-off washroom and dresses himself in the clothing provided. He made the deal with Izuna, who has already gone to talk to her father and ensure a letter is written to the daimyo registering her marriage, as is appropriate for a member of the nobility taking a concubine from outside their clan. He made the deal and now he must abide by it.

Tōka is safe, at least for the time being. Izuna has explained that her _having_ a concubine in the Diplomatic Quarters –what a charming euphemism for this well-appointed prison– means no other clansman is allowed to approach the building or do Tobirama harm, on pain of death. So as long as Tōka is in the building she is safe from all save Izuna.

He has made Izuna bleed countless times before today –including today in fact, she has a shallow slice across her wrist covered by a fresh scab– but this is the first time that the sight of her blood spilled by him has made him _uncomfortable_. Is it because of the nature of the injury? Or that this is the first and only time he did not actually _want_ to harm her yet has done so anyway? His vigorous explorations with mouth and fingers had revealed little enough of a barrier remaining, so he had not _expected_ her to bleed when sheathing his body within hers. And yet.

Tobirama shakes that thought off as well. Izuna promised to bring back food for him and Tōka, so he will go and sit with his cousin. Perhaps between them they will be able to find another way out of this trap. Knotting the ties of his crisp, new Uchiha-style shirt, he heads out down the corridor for the room Izuna said Tōka was in.

He does not try to walk out of the open front door opposite; he can see the Uchiha still standing guard, and if he leaves then Tōka becomes a valid target. It also feels unwise to test what the fuuinjutsu will do to him if he tries to leave, at least for now. When Tōka is better perhaps he will risk it.

His cousin is flat on her back wearing a plain linen hadajuban, the cord and wood braces around her thighs visible as ridges through the fabric. A chamber pot is set within arm's reach, along with a stack of thoughtfully unfolded blankets so Tōka can pull them over herself if necessary. Currently a single blanket is covering her from the knees down, the upper half a thick wedge she is using to lean on so as to scrutinise the heavily-decorated walls of her cell.

She tips her head to look his way as he closes the fusuma panel behind himself. "Little cousin! So _kind_ of you to join me."

Her face is still pale and tight; evidently the Uchiha do not care to expend good painkillers on a prisoner.

"Tōka-nee," he replies, settling down to one side of the futon where she can easily see him. A wave of exhaustion buffets him; Tobirama smothers a yawn. Having almost no chakra is _exhausting_. Being held hostage, the lust genjutsu and his subsequent exertions had thoroughly distracted him from tracking his energy levels, but before getting up to wash he'd been fighting sleep even on that chilly stone floor.

His cousin's eyes glint. "Tired, cousin? Over-exert yourself stabbing Izuna so _vigorously?"_

"Tōka–"

"You have always been very _vocal_ over wanting to run her through, so maybe I shouldn't be so _surprised_ that given the opportunity you have taken to it with such _audible pleasure_. Given her _appreciation_ of your efforts will you be _sparring_ again later?"

Tobirama lets the vitriol roll over him; his cousin is never pleasant when in pain. "How are your legs, cousin?"

Tōka glares at him. "I am assured they are properly set," she admits grudgingly, "and they do hurt less. But the inflammation is still going down and I am going to be bed-bound for most of three months." Of course the Uchiha will not waste chakra healing an enemy when their injury cages them far more efficiently than mere steel ever could.

"No painkillers?" There are always fewer complications with properly dosed painkillers, as the patient sleeps better.

"Willow bark tincture," Tōka makes a face, "and the suggestion that I request Izuna provide genjutsu assistance before going to sleep."

Tōka will not ask tonight, but it's very likely that by the day after tomorrow she will be tired and sore enough to give in. Tobirama could say that Izuna had been very punctilious about asking him before putting him under a genjutsu and meticulously ensuring it was clear of his mind before leaving him, but that will only invite more invective right now.

"I will ask about opiates when Izuna returns," he says instead. "Are your wrists alright?" He can't see either of them, tucked under her lower back as they are.

"Manacled," Tōka says shortly, "but they padded the chain under my back. Shallow cuts on my hands from the wire, but they cleaned those. And me."

No wonder she's prickly as a thornbush; Tōka _hates_ to be helpless and two Uchiha –at least they were both women and easily identified as such compared to Izuna– have stripped her, washed her, dried her, redressed her in different clothing and tucked her up in blankets. His cousin is a terrible patient at the best of times, but to be such in enemy hands with the prospect of a further _three months_ of similar treatment…

"There is a toilet and wash-basin through the stone room," he offers, "although I would rather leave that until you are a little more mobile." Without chakra enhancement to call on he doesn't trust himself not to drop her. Crutches would do no good either with both legs broken.

Tōka sighs, then takes a deep, deliberate breath. "Thank you, cousin." She attempts a smile. "Did you enjoy yourself, at least?"

Tobirama feels his ears heat and looks away hurriedly, then glances back as she chuckles weakly at him.

"So it's abduction and restraint you like then, cousin? If only we'd known sooner, we could have found you an Uzumaki to tie you to your own bedframe much more safely–"

"Tōka, please–"

"Or is it that she boxed you in with cunning and out-thought you so effortlessly? That fuuinjutsu she caught you in didn't look like anything I've ever seen before and even when we thought Izuna was a man she looked all skin and bones next to Madara. I would _not_ have put money on the Izuna of yesterday being able to catch you over one shoulder and run full-tilt carrying you, armour and all, and yet here we are." His cousin pauses. "And don't talk to me about chakra enhancement, Tobira-kun, that was _not_ all chakra. You definitely weigh more than she does and unbalanced loads are the worst."

"More fuuinjutsu?" Tobirama offers weakly, having rather avoided thinking about the gaping hole in his memory between his capture and awakening. "I am almost certain that the chakra suppression is on the building, but I suspect there is something extra on me somewhere to keep me from leaving." It is fairly evident, from the heavy manacles embedded in the wall of the stone room and the pair chaining Tōka to a ring set in stone through a hole in the floor here, that those usually imprisoned within the 'Diplomatic Quarters' are not permitted to move around freely.

He feels _exhausted_. Which yes is partly from his recent activity, but most of it is being so completely cut off from his own chakra. If he were this tired at home he'd be courting chakra exhaustion and take a break to eat well and nap, but that really isn't possible here. Tōka is lying on the only futon and he doesn't want to use any of the blankets that the medics have set aside for her.

"If there's a seal on your back I could tell you," Tōka muses, "but if it's on your scalp somewhere we'd have to shave you bald to find it and we don't have a kunai between us." Or enough chakra to so much as twirl a leaf, let alone form a scalpel, but that hardly needs to be said.

Tobirama takes his shirt and undershirt off anyway, turning to give his cousin his back.

Her sharp hiss of breath is not _remotely_ comforting.

"I should have paid more attention to Obaa-san's lessons," Tōka admits tiredly after a few tense seconds' silence, "but I _think_ there is more to what I am seeing than just keeping you indoors, little cousin. It is very intricate for something that simple, given what Mito-chan has told me about barriers."

"What does it look like?" He wants to know, even if there's nothing he can do about it.

"There are several sections. The smallest is at the nape of your neck, a pattern of nested and intersecting circles reaching from your hairline almost to your shoulders. The largest is in the small of your back, precisely that part of your back that you can't see without a large, high-quality mirror or genjutsu assistance." Tōka's tone is grim. "It's in the style of Uchiha facial tattoos, so if there's kanji in there they're too elaborate or obscure to puzzle out, and forms the shape of a crow with outstretched wings grasping a sunburst in three claws."

Yatagarasu, the attendant of Amaterasu? That fits with what scant knowledge he has of Uchiha kami worship, but is also _deeply_ dispiriting when combined with the equally little he knows of Uzumaki invocation fuuinjutsu. Anything that calls on gods is best left to those with the training and experience to not die when doing so, as Obaasan put it. "Anything else?"

"It's connected to the circles at your nape by various swirls and magatama that run the length of your spine, ending with a sharingan mark just above your ass that matches the one right at your hairline. Going by the style it's a single piece, or at least created by the same person, and I will eat one of those blankets if Izuna didn't draw the whole thing on you herself; it's been made _very_ clear that she didn't get her father or brother's permission for this even if she _did_ suborn her own little cousin to assist her." There's a rustle of shifting blankets. "Put your shirt back on Tobira; ask her when she comes back and see what she says. Or doesn't say."

* * *

Izuna does not return until the weak spring sunshine has almost faded away entirely, forcing Tobirama to open the fusuma to catch what little remains of the afternoon light. There are no lamps or lanterns in the Diplomatic Quarters, no doubt as a safeguard against fire, but he cannot simply sit in the dark with Tōka while waiting for a meal, as though he is a child again and is being punished by his father for disobeying orders.

When she _does_ return, it is with two large bento boxes hanging from one hand and a lantern from the other, wearing gold-embroidered red silk rather than indigo cotton, elaborate filigree greaves holding the fabric in place around her calves and tabi and geta rather than sturdy leather sandals.

"Well, the good news is my father is not contesting my marriage, nor my keeping Tōka-san in here with you," she says to Tobirama, passing him the bento boxes as she steps out of her geta. "The less good news is that he's currently insisting on holding off until your father jumps one way or the other to inform the daimyo of my having acquired a concubine, which will probably take a full month."

Tobirama winces internally at the thought of Hashirama, bereft of both himself _and_ Tōka, for an entire month. Mito will do her best, but Hashirama is a lot of work at the best of times and this is not a remotely good situation.

"What's with the get-up?" Tōka asks from the futon. Tobirama managed to nap for a few hours after she threw half the blankets at him, but he doesn't think she got any rest due to the pain. He's still tired –his chakra blocked so convincingly that his body still thinks he's exhausted his reserves– but as long as the food is filling enough, he should manage. He knows the fatigue is an illusion but it will still impair him until he adjusts.

Izuna grimaces, which is more use of her facial muscles than Tobirama has ever seen before today. "Well, it's not much of a marriage without a wedding party," she says a little apologetically, "so it's going to get _loud_ tonight. It's also why it took me so long to arrange food; the top box is for tonight" –she hands Tobirama two pairs of chopsticks– "and the lower box is for tomorrow, since I'm not going to be allowed to go to bed until dawn at the earliest."

"A wedding party without the groom?" Tōka snarks dryly.

Izuna grins briefly, a quick flash of teeth as she sets the chakra lantern –a glowing chunk of quartz set in a paper shade– to hang from a concealed hook in the ceiling. "Oh, there's a groom alright; that's me. But the clan recognises that stealing a concubine off the battlefield is perhaps _not_ the best basis for a successful marriage, so a few kinswomen will be dressing up as kitsune to stand in for my bride."

"Kitsune?" Tobirama knows various fox-wife stories, of course, but such things are usually considered unlucky. _Not_ generally the kind of thing it is politic to mention at weddings.

Izuna's smile this time is a bit more strained. "Well, who knows how a kitsune marriage is going to go. I might end up with beautiful children and a happy old age, or my spouse might vanish in a puff of smoke one afternoon and curse the fields on their way out. Who knows! Certainly not me. Also seeing as I have made a profoundly inappropriate match, I get a profoundly inappropriate wedding party. With far too much sake, attendant kitsune, lots of dancing and _all_ the songs that usually only get sung _outside_ clan grounds, because Baachan can and _will_ wash your mouth out with soap."

Tōka cackles, then winces. "Is my cousin invited?"

Izuna pauses. "If you _wish_ to participate I can have people congregate in the garden outside the tatami room," she says carefully, "but you won't be able to join _in_. That's part of the concubine rules: nobody can so much as approach what's mine without my express permission."

Rules that are as much for his own safety as for everybody else's, Tobirama assumes.

"But if Tōka-san wishes also to watch, people _might_ talk to her," Izuna adds judiciously. "Although with those legs, Tōka-san would do better to get what sleep she can."

"That would be easier with proper painkillers," Tōka grumbles, watching Izuna warily as the red-clad Uchiha slides past Tobirama to kneel behind the head of the futon.

"I was assured you had all the willow bark it was safe to give you, Tōka-san," Izuna replies calmly. "I can offer you a pain-blocking genjutsu, with the caveat that moving while under it is _extremely_ ill-advised."

"Whatever is wrong with opiates?" Tobirama asks, also sitting.

Izuna raises an eyebrow. "I do not see how mania, hallucinations and permanent brain damage are desirable side-effects, but perhaps the Senju consider these things minor inconveniences given the berserker strength and violent tendencies they are regularly accompanied by."

Tobirama blinks. "I have never seen or heard of such side-effects," he ventures cautiously. He had not realised they were even a _possibility_ and he has been given opiates for broken bones before.

"Probably something to do with how they interact with our bloodline then." Izuna shrugs. "But the result is the same: you will find no opiates on Uchiha ground; they are a poison we can do without. There _are_ a few stronger things, but Tōka-san is able to breathe without screaming so I am disinclined to offer them. The dosage slides from 'useful' to 'lethal' far too quickly unless the pain is so powerful the victim cannot even pass out." She briskly lifts Tōka into a sitting position. "You are not dying by inches, so willow bark is all you get. The same as everybody else."

Tobirama can't keep his mind from trying to chase after the implications of that, but he is also too tired to track all the nuances properly. His nap helped but he is still tired.

"I," Tōka says through gritted teeth, "would very much like to watch your wedding party, Izuna-san." She snatches a pair of chopsticks off Tobirama. "Also, my cousin needs a futon."

"I'll bring one over before the party gets started," Izuna agrees, rising to her feet again and stepping carefully over Tōka's legs. "And extra blankets for both of you; it's much easier to chill with suppressed chakra and I don't want either of you getting sick."

"Be easier for you to take advantage if he was sick," Tōka says with acid sweetness.

Tobirama freezes as Izuna goes utterly, dangerously still.

"If I truly wished to take advantage, Senju Tōka," the Uchiha says softly, "you would not be here, and Tobirama would be shackled to the wall in the stone room, earning bed, blankets, food and clothing with clan secrets and sexual favours."

Izuna is being _kind_. Tobirama had not put much thought into _how_ kind, but now–

She leaves, closing the fusuma firmly behind her.

"Tobirama? Tobira! Tobi, little cousin, look at me _please_ , I'm right here–"

Tobirama presses his face against his knees, hands folded over the back of his head and _trembles_.

* * *

When Izuna returns an hour later with futon, blankets and several changes of clothing –still all Uchiha indigo– Tobirama has eaten his half of the fish curry, washed his face and thoroughly explored the tatami room as well as poked into all the corners of the fusuma room. The fusuma on the side facing the tatami room do move, and he has opened them so Tōka can see through and will not have to negotiate the hallway in order to reach one of the many shōji doors that make up all three of the other walls.

Izuna eyes the new arrangement, then places the rolled-up futon and blankets in the corner of the tatami room, beside the open fusuma, and hangs the clothing over the flimsy rail in the fusuma room along with two towels.

Not much, but enough to create the illusion of hospitality.

It's louder outside already; Tobirama can hear music and singing, including some songs previously encountered in bars and outside brothels. If this is the _beginning_ of what the Uchiha consider inappropriate, then he is morbidly curious how bad things will get later.

Izuna leaves again briefly, then returns with a tray of jugs and cups, a stack of smaller lacquered boxes and more blankets. She somehow still manages to tease open the shōji to the left of the fusuma room and steps out onto an engawa, dropping a blanket and laying it out flat with a wisp of chakra, flicks open a set of legs under the tray so it becomes a table and sets that down as well.

With the paper door opened the noise is abruptly much more immediate; the relative gloom indoors means that Tobirama's eyes do not need to adjust to the dimness outside; in fact outside is _brighter_ as there are a great many paper lanterns –most of them red– hanging from trees and standing on fence posts.

There are also a _lot_ of people out there, all in regular indigo rather than festival clothing or kimono, covering the low-lying garden around the Diplomatic Quarters with straw and sawdust then laying tatami over the top. Wooden benches are set out around the fence and people are setting up tables and more benches in the open spaces beyond, and the scent of food is already carrying on the chilly wind.

Along with the scent of alcohol.

"Here."

Tobirama accepts the item thrust at him, then realises it is a coat; an Uchiha coat.

"It's Madara's spare one," Izuna says in response to his raised eyebrow. "Touka will have to settle for blankets, but she's not going to be moving around and you might be."

"Madara's?"

Izuna raises a playful eyebrow in return, the curve of her facial tattoo shifting. "Your shoulders wouldn't fit into mine." Her face becomes more serious. "Don't worry, as my concubine you're entitled to wear my Lineage's coat patterns. Well, some of them at least. This one is entirely inoffensive, I promise."

All the Uchiha coats Tobirama has ever seen have been entirely identical; he sets his confusion aside for later and shrugs into the coat –it's already cold, being early spring– and eventually manages to decipher the discreet fasteners. By the time he's finished Tōka is wrapped in blankets like a dumpling and sitting on the engawa by the tray-table; the pain-furrow between her eyebrows has gone, making it clear that she has succumbed to the offer of genjutsu.

More lanterns are handed up to Izuna from the Uchiha in the garden –now almost entirely covered in tatami, making the occasional bushes all the more incongruous– and hung around the outside walls of the Diplomatic Quarters, providing more light and an increasingly festive air.

"Get down here so we can start, Izuna-bi!"

Izuna laughs and leaps off the engawa, turning an entirely superfluous somersault in midair on the way down and landing light as a cat. "I'm here, Jakuchi, I'm here!"

"Should be you in the kitsune mask, Izuna-bi!" another warrior shouts, eliciting widespread laughter. "So many lovelorn ladies left in the dust!"

Izuna shakes her head but allows herself to be slapped on the back and hustled over towards the fence as more lanterns are set up, outlining a decently-sized tatami-covered open space punctuated with bushes roughly opposite where Tobirama and Tōka are sitting that is likely intended as a dance floor. It's all in ruddy half-light, the lanterns being around it rather than above it, and the people moving around on the tatami are wearing tabi rather than sandals.

Tobirama is grateful for the knitted underwear and tabi that had been folded in with his outfit; spring is only just beginning and without his usual almost-unconscious chakra enhancement the air is _cold_ , even with a thickly padded coat over the top. It may well be the cold that eventually drives them both back indoors to bed, not the late hour, but at least he can bring the futon to Tōka rather than the other way around if he is truly _that_ uncertain of his ability to carry her more than a few steps unassisted.

Then the bustle and hubbub abruptly quiets, making way for the sound of a steady drumbeat. Tobirama cradles a large cup of hot spiced sake in both hands –the jug is _staying_ hot, which is a very clever bit of fuuinjutsu– and settles in to find out what the Uchiha consider necessary for a 'profoundly inappropriate' wedding party. At the very least it will be entertaining.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good number of pop songs were butchered in the making of this chapter. I had fun!

Tobirama knew that everybody sang. Some better than others, but singing was, well, normal. Work songs, drinking songs, lullabies, storytelling songs on winter evenings, songs to keep you sharp through the tedium of caravan guarding; if pressed, he could probably sing a good range of them, or at least join in if somebody else started them, as the words to some songs are markedly less memorable than they might be.

That said, he's not met _anybody_ who sings about _feelings_ the way the Uchiha seem to think is acceptable. The first few songs at this impromptu wedding party are vaguely familiar, drinking songs and 'good luck, you're going to need it' songs with everybody belting out the verses in between downing cups of sake, but then Izuna is dragged forwards and the first kitsune-masked woman arrives in a lavish kimono also patterned with foxes and some very different music starts, with a heavy yet whimsical beat.

And _then_ the kitsune starts _singing_ , swaying lightly and twirling to the music.

"Head under water and they told me to breathe easy for a while; breathing gets harder, even I know that. You made room for me, but it's too soon to see if I'm happy in your hands; I'm unusually hard to keep hold of. Blank stares at blank pages; no easy way to say this: you mean well, but you make this hard on me. I'm not going to write you a love song, 'cause you asked for it, because you _need_ one. I'm not going to write you a love song because you say it's make or break in this; I'm not going to write to make you stay. If all you have is leaving I'm going to need a better reason to write you a love song today."

The song just gets worse from there.

"–Convince me to please you; make me think I need this too; I'm trying to make you hear me as I am–"

Izuna stands there throughout, grinning ruefully and swaying to the beat as she is thoroughly torn down in song. Then once the song is over –and the laughter has died down– Izuna turns to the knot of Uchiha with instruments and waves a hand, prompting the start of another song with yet another irregular yet catchy beat.

"Ooh, watch me, hanging by a string this time" –loud laughter echoes from all quarters as Izuna sways– "ooh, watch me, a smile worth a hundred lies. If there're lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my ounce of words in first: let me tell you something that I've found, that the world's a better place when it's upside down. When you're playing with desire; don't come running to my place; when it burns I smile."

"What's sweet about me? Nothing sweet about me; what's sweet about me? Nothing's sweet about me…"

The laughter is continuous by this point and Tobirama misses all of the next verse as a result, but Izuna's smile stays bright and mischievous as she sways in the lantern light. Then everybody joins in for the last chorus, loud enough to echo off the buildings and the distant mountainside as well.

Afterwards Izuna is swallowed into the press and a group comes forward to sing a different song for the kitsune; a lilting, crooning song about obsession and a controlling wife or lover.

"–I can feel her on my skin; I can taste her on my tongue; she's the sweetest taste of failure; the more I get the more I want! She wants to own me… she says come closer and I just can't pull myself away, under her spell I can't break; I just can't stop–"

Tōka elbows him. "Consider yourself warned," she murmurs, prompting Tobirama to take another sip of the hot sake. It's hot enough to have lost all the alcohol, so he can drink as much as he likes without losing his head.

It's not that he doesn't know that lust is a thing that rules many men and no few women, but that doesn't mean they have to sing about it like _this_. This is excessive and explains _exactly_ why Izuna said it was profoundly inappropriate, for all that she seems to be _enjoying_ singing all these outrageous songs.

Then the kitsune drags Izuna out of the crowd, throws her at another knot of Uchiha and a heavy beat kicks off a dance, sharingan flashing as the group coalesce into pairs and leap over and around each-other as though it's a spar not a dance. The beat stays steady for several minutes, then somebody plays a riff and somebody else –a woman– starts singing.

"How does it feel in my arms? Tell me: how does it feel in my arms?"

There's a pause as everybody _roars_ with laughter and then the dancing kicks off again, Izuna in red clearly visible amongst the indigo and thrown from one person to the next, high in the air and then twirled around with each catch before being thrown again as more people take to the floor and others step back.

Tobirama's more than a little grateful to have been allowed to sit this out. It certainly doesn't look _fun_ to be treated like a child's temari by what looks like at _least_ half of the Uchiha's entire warrior population.

After the dancing finally winds down Madara steps up into the dance floor and waves to the musicians –Tobirama's not sure how they know which song to play but evidently they either have some signalling worked out or a previously arranged list– then starts a song that's clearly a clan staple because five other voices immediately join in:

"It was a long and dark December; on the rooftops I remember there was snow, white snow. Clearly I remember, from the windows they were watching, while we froze down below..."

"… if you love me, won't you let me know?"

The sheer _yearning_ in this song makes Tobirama uncomfortable, but he refuses to run away. He is nominally being ignored, but he _knows_ there are eyes on him. So he eats the snacks Izuna provided, sips his still-hot drink and endures. He would be more concerned if the Uchiha _weren't_ watching him, for all that a significant portion of them seem engrossed in the ongoing wedding celebration.

"I don't want to be a soldier or the captain of some sinking ship; if you love me, won't you let me go?"

Tobirama suspects there is considerable imagery and context he is missing, but that doesn't make Madara's heartfelt and powerful tones any less unsettling. Mostly because this is _Madara_ and Tobirama has never considered him as somebody likely to sing like this, or at all, ever.

There's another dance after that, in threes rather than twos, and when it comes to an end the musicians start a new tune and Izuna is immediately tripped into the middle of the dancefloor, again to copious laughter.

Izuna picks herself up, bounces on her toes and starts to sing:

"I broke her heart in thirty seconds flat, in thirty seconds flat–" then pauses because the audience are laughing too loudly for the music _or_ her singing to be audible. Next to Tobirama Tōka sniggers.

"What, you've not noticed the rumours the civilians put about on Uchiha Izuna?" She says when he glances inquiringly at her.

Well yes, Tobirama _has_ heard the rumours. But Tobirama fights Izuna on a more-than-weekly basis and not _once_ has he or anybody on his squad ever been flirted with, so he had discounted the stories of Uchiha Tajima's second son being an incorrigible flirt who goes through women like water as more unfounded hyperbole.

The sheer amusement the entire Uchiha clan clearly find in Izuna's reputation is still not proof that said reputation is _accurate_. Given Tobirama's recent first-hand experience of Izuna's unquestionable femininity, he's even _less_ inclined to trust the gossip given that it portrays her as a man.

"Just how did I become that kind of guy; to look at a girl and lie right in her eye; I know that it isn't right, I'm so so so sorry, I'm so so so sorry; I didn't mean to break your heart–"

Izuna's evident enjoyment of the song is _also_ not proof.

"–look darling I'm a heartbreaker, I'm a heartbreaker–"

* * *

Several hours later the singing and dancing is _still_ going and they've started adding _fire jutsu_ to the celebrations; Tobirama really hopes the Uchiha's warriors are less drunk than they look because he does _not_ want to find out if the seals keeping him within the limits of the Diplomatic Quarters have a clause to allow him to escape if the building is on fire.

Izuna hasn't been allowed off the floor for more than a few minutes at a time, just enough to press food and fresh cups of sake on her before dragging her back on again; Madara's also been surprisingly visible and Tobirama's _sure_ he saw Tajima toast his daughter a while back. He watched carefully to ensure he had identified the man correctly and not confused him with a similar-looking clansman –it might possibly have been a different close relative– but Tobirama is unsure of how drunk Tajima would have to be to make a toast to his daughter that could not actually be _heard_ over the laughter the beginning of the toast inspired.

"That's me done for the night," Tōka decides firmly after a bouncy, catchy and shamelessly explicit song about seducing a brothel dancer. "Can you lift me back onto my futon, Tobira?"

He does manage, aided heavily by the pain-relieving genjutsu Tōka is still under. "Is it safe to leave the genjutsu on overnight?" he asks her over the sound of a new song, this one wild and achingly mournful.

His cousin sighs. "Probably not; I know I move around. Maybe see if you can catch your very limber red-clad spouse and get her to take it off after I've gone to sleep?"

"I'll do my best," Tobirama promises before closing the fusuma in a probably-vain attempt to shut some of the noise out and heading back outside.

"There's a fire within me, but I don't know where to start; there's a life beginning, there a dark I'm leaving, there's a hope I'm feeling now..."

Tobirama has long since finished the food, but Izuna brought him a fresh jug of hot spiced sake about an hour ago and he's taking care to make it last.

The next dance is just Madara and Izuna and it lasts for a good long time, sharingan almost glowing in the red-tinted light as they twist fire around each-other, leap and bend and bodily throw each-other around to a rapid drumbeat and the clapping of their audience.

There's a louder roar as they finish, then Izuna is dragged off and plied with more alcohol and a new song starts:

"I can see you stalking like a predator; I've been here before. Temptation calls like a deer to a salt lick but I will not be caught. As I can read those velvet eyes and all I see is lies."

So many of these songs are either utter nonsense–

"Move while you're watching me, dance with the enemy, here is my remedy–"

–or perhaps _not_ pure nonsense. But certainly incomprehensible to non-Uchiha and Tobirama spends the next hour swinging from utter bafflement to wincing second-hand mortification on Izuna's behalf as her clan sings all manner of obscenity at her and expects her to sing _back_. Admittedly Izuna doesn't seem to _mind_ –although Tobirama has a feeling at least some of that is the alcohol they keep all but pouring down her throat– but the night is moving inexorably on and nobody can keep this level of activity up indefinitely, not even with chakra.

Although so far the only song to make him actually cover his face with his hands is the call-and-reply song with Izuna, a kitsune –probably not the original one– and another woman, with Izuna singing the repeated line,

"Forget about your husband and meet me at my hotel room; you can bring your sisters and meet me at my hotel room."

Tobirama rather wants to know who _exactly_ wrote that song and _why_ , because he cannot think of _any_ occasion when it would be singable in public. Except, apparently, an Uchiha kitsune wedding party; but it's still _inappropriate_. The Uchiha _know_ it is inappropriate, even, yet they all seem to know the songs well enough to not stumble over the words and also take great enjoyment in how provocative those words _are_.

Then Izuna's voice rises in the sudden quiet, unexpectedly close, unaccompanied and slurring ever so slightly despite hitting every lilting note perfectly tunefully.

"I know it's been a while but I'm glad you came, and I've been thinking about the way you say my name; you've got my body spinning like a hurricane and it feels –you've got me going insane and I can't get enough because I want to get it all–"

Tobirama looks up to meet unevenly spinning red eyes framed by that familiar snaking necklace tattoo, set in a flushed face as Izuna leans against the engawa, shoulders loose and no other Uchiha within several body-lengths of her.

"We can turn the heat up if you want now, turn the light down low if you want now; just want to move you but you froze up–"

A desperate glance across the dimly-lit garden dance floor reveals absolutely nobody willing to make eye-contact and far too many people within earshot; they are not going to be rescued from this abject mortification. _His_ abject mortification at least, as Izuna and most of the other Uchiha present do not seem to recognise the existence of shame as a concept.

Izuna smiles, wide and loose as the words keep rolling:

"Let me break the ice, allow me to get you right, once you warm up to me, darling, I can make you feel _hot,_ " she fans herself with one hand, swaying and very visibly drunk but still managing to make steady and exceedingly knowing eye-contact as the spinning red fades to black but the words continue to spill from her lips.

Tobirama feels his ears and face heat but doesn't _dare_ look away as she repeats the chorus of this utterly unquestionably explicit song then moves on to another verse.

"You've got me hypnotised, I've never felt this way; you've got my heart beating like I should run away, Can you _ri-ise_ to the occasion? I'm patiently waiting, because it's getting late and I can't get enough, I want to get it all–"

She manages to run through the pre-chorus and chorus _again_ , _twice,_ before Madara finally has mercy on everybody present and drags Izuna away into the dark, presumably to sober up enough for the party to continue. Leaving Tobirama alone with his hot drink and his tangled thoughts.

The music picks up a few moments later and the dancing resumes, but without Izuna for the time being. The kitsune –two of them now– whirl in the middle of the barely-ordered chaos and Tobirama is grateful for the distraction provided.

But then Izuna escapes her older brother and darts up to the dais the musicians are sitting on and starts gesturing extravagantly. Tobirama spots a few nods before somebody drags her off the stage and presses a drink –hopefully not alcohol– on her, then the music starts to change and there's a few hoots and whistles.

Tobirama feels his stomach sink; it's another of those odd, lopsided beats. He's heard enough of the Uchiha's music by now to know that those beats go with the most blatantly explicit songs.

"I got the feeling darling it's about that time of day, so let the dramas of the week fade away! I'm in the next room if you want to play, who's got that burning fire –we do hey hey!"

Izuna is _manic_ , a standing jump onto somebody's shoulders and balancing there easily as she belts out the song with less of a slur in her voice and vastly more glee. More sober perhaps, but this is pure _mischief_ and Tobirama's _certain_ she's going to make her older brother regret interrupting her fun.

"So do the kitsune hey, do it the kitsune way" –she _slides_ down her living support, one leg staying up on his shoulder level with her ear as she leans in then somersaults over backwards to standing– "get in the mood and keep it beating hey; I'll make you feel alright, I'll take you home tonight, you got to work it up to get up and go!"

The next bit is surely the chorus, because a bunch of other voices join in with her right on the beat:

"Let's get excited, I'm so excited, I know exactly what I'm going to do; let's get excited, I'm so excited, I'm on the hunt and I'm all over you!"

Izuna now has a ring of Uchiha on the dancefloor, including the two kitsune, all swaying and clapping as she bounces from shoulder to shoulder, light and fearless as a cat and still singing at the top of her lungs.

"–no competition but the girls are coming back strong, because a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do and you will be amazed–"

Another pair of warriors join Izuna in bouncing over their fellows and then all of a sudden there's at least a dozen people dancing from shoulder to shoulder above the wider throng, sharingan shining as laughter and swearing erupt in their wake.

Then Izuna is sliding down somebody else –and that entire movement is just _gleefully_ obscene even without the hip twist– and gesturing sharply, splitting the dancers into two groups on either side of her.

"My ladies!" –there's an answering whoop that makes it abundantly clear that Izuna is far from the only Uchiha concealing gender behind a buffer of Fire chakra and a shapeless coat– "Need to get in the game: get the fellow that you want and have him begging for days–"

There's a roar, whistles and cheers and laughter.

"My fellows!" –this roar is much louder– "Need to get in the game: if you give her what you want then you'll be getting a raise–"

The wolf-whistles and whoops _echo_ this time, so loud and piercing Tobirama cringes. Izuna runs through the call-and-reply parts once again, but with slightly different words and equally deafening replies, then back to the chorus at which point order dissolves and the climbing all over each-other starts up again.

The musicians eventually tire of the song and change the beat, which leads to a quartet of unfamiliar Uchiha singing a plaintive love song, then another two fairly long dances and a drinking song so ubiquitous even Tobirama knows all the words. He hums along, then surprises himself with a yawn.

Yes, he managed to fit in a nap earlier, but how late _is_ it now? He's wrapped in blankets over the coat so he's not actually cold, but it's got to not be many hours before dawn now. The next song is a completely silly one about it raining men, with a few suggestive lines in it that seem to exist purely to raise a snigger, and the one after it is a another love song, this one about the singer stealing her lover's heart because he 'can't fight the moonlight'.

By halfway through that one Tobirama has been surprised by several more yawns and there's a faint shift in the light that indicates the arrival of false dawn. Spring nights are long, so he's been awake _far_ too long if sunrise is approaching. Getting up, he stretches and heads inside, carefully closing the shōji after him. Tōka is a shapeless lump buried under several layers of blankets when he peers through the fusuma –he never did manage to get Izuna to take the genjutsu off, so hopefully his cousin hasn't damaged herself rolling over in her sleep– and doesn't stir even as Tobirama uses the washroom before unfolding his own futon across the floor of the tatami room and wrapping the extra blankets around himself. There's no point in getting undressed when it's this cold and he's got no accessible chakra to counter the chill.

Outside the music changes to another dance, this one with a fairly frantic beat. Tobirama closes his eyes and tries to will it into background noise; hopefully he's tired enough to go to sleep _despite_ being surrounded by enemies and almost entirely helpless.

* * *

"Tobi, Tobi wake _up!"_

Tobirama blearily opens his eyes and rolls over to glare at Tōka, who has pulled one of the fusuma half-open to hiss at him.

"Get over here and _help me_ before I wet myself," his cousin demands.

Of course; she can't use the toilet by herself right now. Tobirama reluctantly crawls out of his blanket cocoon –the coat briefly surprises him, mostly because in daylight he can see the subtle pattern in the quilting of the sleeves– and lifts his cousin up so she can slide the chamber pot underneath herself.

"Genjutsu wore off during the night," she tells him after he's set her back down on the sheets, "but I haven't jarred anything yet, so it's not particularly painful." She pauses. "When did _you_ go to bed then?"

Tobirama reaches for the chamber pot; no reason not to empty it right away. "False dawn was starting."

Tōka whistles. "Not at _all_ well-rested, are we?" she teases.

Tobirama glares at her again. "I will fetch you water to wash your hands before breakfast," he announces, then walks off with the chamber pot.

Emptying it and rinsing it out is the work of a moment, as is splashing his own face with cold water. His cousin is right; he's not had anywhere near enough sleep, but he comforts himself with the certainty that Izuna will thus far have had even _less_ and have used up far more energy celebrating her kitsune wedding. After eating his share of breakfast he can move Tōka to the tatami room and shut himself in the fusuma room to try and get a bit more sleep with worrying about being disturbed.

The breakfast bento is full of onigiri, so Tobirama fills the empty sake jugs left behind on the engawa with water for them to drink with them. The rice balls come in three flavours, filled with pickled plum, seaweed and dried fish-flakes respectively. Tōka considerately eats only one of the fish-flake onigiri; Tobirama likewise eats only one of the pickled plum ones and they split the seaweed ones between them equally.

His nap is a success, even with Tōka humming snatches of various of last night's songs to herself in the tatami room; he wakes again at noon and sets the bedding to air before opening the shōji to get more of a feel for their surroundings than was possible last night. Festival lanterns were hanging around the garden then, but there's more to see now than they could show.

The garden bears the clear marks of last night's festivities, grass trampled and muddy and the barren flowerbeds piled high with straw. Beyond that, all the bushes are heavily trimmed and there is only one tree to be seen, a pine standing beside the front gate and aggressively shaped into a suitably aesthetic form. There is nowhere on the engawa that he is not able to see clearly into the wider Uchiha compound and vice-versa; the sightlines are myriad and unforgiving.

The Senju compound does not have a prison, but if it did Tobirama suspects it would be somewhere isolated and heavily secured, not in the midst of a busy residential area. He can see workshops and hear children and there's that faint tang of fermenting ammonia that he associates with cleaning products and leather-working.

Then again, it is harder to escape undetected when you never know who may be passing by, and with his sensing so curtailed that he cannot reach beyond the Diplomatic Quarters themselves he doesn't even know for sure whether he is being watched. There are certainly enough buildings and trees beyond the grounds of his well-appointed prison to hide three separate Uchiha Squads.

Once he has walked around the engawa and got a feel for the building's immediate surroundings, Tobirama refills the water jugs and settles in the tatami room with Tōka. She immediately picks his brain for more details of last night's songs, which isn't his favourite activity but there's nothing _else_ to do. There's no dice or cards in the building, not so much as a paper pamphlet to read or a wall hanging to debate the meaning of. Yes, the inside of the fusuma room's panels are intricately painted with landscapes and animals, but there is sunshine filtering in through the paper of the shōji and he can hear distant birdsong, both of which would be muffled to almost nothing if he closed the fusuma around himself.

There will no doubt be time enough for that later.

* * *

Izuna arrives in the early afternoon, wearing plain indigo once more and carrying a loaded tray. She looks more tired than she did yesterday, but that is only to be expected. She does not _look_ hungover, but that might simply be his own unfamiliarity with how Uchiha react to alcohol, other than with the previously evident complete lack of shame.

"I have chicken soup for your bones, Tōka-san," she says after shedding her sandals in the genkan, "and further concessions from my Lord-Father." She pauses, eyeing Tobirama, who realises he's still wearing Madara's coat. "Are you cold? I can arrange more warm layers."

Tobirama thinks about the question as Izuna herd him firmly into the tatami room so she can set down her tray, check Tōka over with what looks like a repurposed genjutsu rather than a designated medical technique and then provide his cousin with a generous bowl of chicken soup. Which does actually smell very appetising.

"I would appreciate more clothing," he decides eventually, "and a coat of my own, if I am permitted to go into the garden rather than merely look at it."

Izuna's only response to this is an instant's stillness, after which she busies herself serving him a bowl of soup.

"You will have all the warm clothing I can arrange," she says briskly, "though I should measure you first, to ensure you can move easily in it. I could probably extrapolate your measurements, but precision will not take many moments." She ladles out a third bowl of soup. "After the meal, though."

Tōka mutters the habitual thanks-for-the-food and Tobirama belatedly follows suit before picking up his chopsticks –plain carved wood and rather flimsy– and digging in. It's good soup. Izuna joining them for the meal is a little awkward, but not terminally so. It's just. Well. Quiet, save for the slurping.

"So, your father?" Tōka asks after polishing off a second bowl of the soup.

Izuna finishes her own second bowl of soup, offers Tōka more –which his cousin accepts, healing is a hungry business– and then sits back on her heels with the general air of somebody picking their words with care.

"My Lord-Father," she says in studiously neutral tones, "is most utilitarian in his outlook. He easily sees the benefit to the clan of my taking Tobirama-kun as my concubine, but considers Tōka-san to be entirely superfluous."

Tobirama feels an icy chill settle in his gut at this assessment. There are many ways the Uchiha Clan Head could make his cousin 'benefit the Uchiha Clan' and she would not enjoy any of them.

"On the one hand, I cannot disobey my father in matters pertaining to clan security," Izuna says very precisely, which Tobirama makes a mental note of because that is a very interesting distinction, "but on the other, Tōka-san as she is presently does not offer a threat to clan security. So I have until Tōka-san is able to walk under her own power to find a way by which the clan may tangibly benefit from her continued feeding and care, and at that point I will be required to take steps to ensure she will not present a _danger_ to the clan as her mobility increases."

Tōka sets her half-fished bowl of soup down on the floor, carefully out of reach of elbows. "Steps?"

"My Lord-Father would likely prefer I break your back," Izuna replies steadily, "but I can probably get away with amputating a foot and a few fingers. As that way you will retain sufficient mobility to not require constant care, yet be unable to retain your current skill level."

Tobirama swallows bile. That is… admirably fair, considering the Uchiha are at war with the Senju. His father would do no less than Tajima in these circumstances, and likely without granting a grace period beforehand.

"And your honoured brother?" Tōka asks shrewdly.

Izuna's gaze moves to the shōji past Tobirama's shoulder. "My brother would greatly appreciate it if the Senju would use this opportunity to sue for peace, or at least a cease-fire at acceptable terms," she says neutrally, "as if such a step were taken, Tōka-san's continued wellbeing could be presented as a show of goodwill and she could eventually be traded back in exchange for certain concessions."

"But you cannot communicate a willingness for such a thing until the daimyo is informed of your marriage," Tobirama deduces easily, "which your father is delaying until _my_ father makes his play."

"Essentially," Izuna agrees. "Of course if I conceive the political landscape changes _again_ , but I am currently hoping that your father chooses to procrastinate long enough that my father _must_ inform the daimyo of my marriage, as less than eight months between a marriage announcement and a birth announcement is a tad _unseemly_ for a noble lineage. Especially when my child's father is from the clan we are feuding with."

Tobirama does not know very much about court or how politics work between members of the nobility –the Senju do not have many noble clients– but he can see how that could be the case.

"If your father is _clever_ he will accuse our clan of kidnapping his son and niece before the daimyo, thus forcing my father to present a formal accounting of you both, living or dead," Izuna continues, "but I feel Senju Butsuma is more the sort to write you both off as dead and adjust his tactics accordingly."

Tobirama feels his father is actually more likely to send spies to investigate the Uchiha Compound first, probably summons, to more clearly determine –if possible– their continued existence, but he can concede that it is likely that, if no such evidence can be provided, his father _will_ hold funerals and progress accordingly thereafter.

He hopes his father makes several attempts to acquire intelligence over a longer period. The prospect of putting Hashirama through unnecessary funerals for _both_ himself _and_ Tōka feels horribly cruel, but there is nothing Tobirama can do about that. He does not control that.

What he _can_ control however, up to a point…

"So if you conceive, you will inform your father very promptly, so that he informs the daimyo, who will in turn write to my father to offer congratulations on the 'advantageous match' his youngest son has made." Thereby also informing Tobirama's brother, grandmother and other relatives that he at least is alive and relatively well. Izuna will have him no less well-secured, but his family will be aware of his plight. Obaasan is more than capable with fuuinjutsu, as is Mito-san; if they _knew..._

Izuna's lips twitch. "That is the general idea. I would _like_ your father to decide that there are political advantages to ending the feud considering his grandchild would be Uchiha heir-apparent until and unless my dear nii-san gets his act together and finds a clanswomen he likes enough to marry; I'm not holding my breath for it though. Your brother is far more likely to concede there."

Hashirama would not do it for the political advantages, but for the possibility of ending the feud for good and coexisting peacefully with the Uchiha. Tobirama is not entirely sure how his father would weigh the feud against the possibility for advancement; it has never been a choice his father has needed to make before now, so he cannot say what the outcome would be. However he cannot influence his father's political decisions any more than he can affect his brother's reactions to premature funerals. What he _can_ affect, however…

Tobirama sniffs delicately. Chakra may _enhance_ his sense of smell, but it does not _dictate_ it. His nose still works, slightly numbed to chakra-related nuances though it is in this state.

And Izuna certainly _smells_ fertile, or close enough to becoming so that she _could_ conceive in the next day or so. Although he's not going to _mention_ that; he has tact and some things it is much wiser _not_ to allude to.

"Do you _want_ to conceive as soon as possible?" He asks, ignoring Tōka's snigger as she picks up her soup bowl again.

Izuna smiles at him, light and wicked. "Oh yes. Might you be willing to offer your assistance there?"

Tobirama smirks back, meeting wickedness with wickedness. "I could be persuaded."

Tōka slurps her noodles loudly. "Could you _not_ flirt in front of me when I can't escape, please?"

Izuna ducks her head, still smiling. "I am sure it could be managed, Tōka-san. Would you like to stay in here, or would you prefer to adjourn elsewhere?"

Tōka visibly considers it as she spoons more broth into her mouth. "I'd like to be able to look out of the shōji," she decides eventually, "and have a hot bath later."

Izuna's smile widens to show teeth. "You have a deal, Tōka-san." Her eyes move to Tobirama. "Fusuma room or stone room, you pick."

The fusuma room will be within earshot of Tōka, but he knows now that the stone room _echoes_ so he cannot actually _escape_ earshot within the building. And the fusuma room is much more comfortable; it holds the heat better, being wood rather than stone.

He gets up and goes to lay out his futon as Izuna moves first Tōka, then the remnants of the soup to beside the shōji, then also sets up the low wooden frame that had been holding up the tray around his cousin's back. Evidently brought so that his cousin requires less assistance to use the chamber pot; Tobirama would call it generous if he didn't know Izuna's motivations are entirely selfish.

He closes the fusuma panels firmly, shutting out most of the light, and then undresses and heads over to the stone room for a quick and thorough wash. Izuna has certainly bathed since last night, so he should also make an effort. Besides, it always feels more comfortable to be clean.

Stepping out of the washroom in just a towel to find Izuna _waiting_ is however… interesting.

"Fusuma room," he says firmly, just to see if she is going to let him demand that.

She waves a hand, eyes bright and smile teasing. "After you."

Tobirama considers her expression and scent, factors in last night's drunken serenade and deliberately hangs the towel up to air before sauntering past her and down the hall to the fusuma room in nothing but his skin.

Her reaction is very gratifying, both in terms of self-control and perceptible desire.

"So, what are we doing this time?" She asks after they are alone in the intricately-decorated bedroom of the luxurious prison he is currently inhabiting.

Tobirama appreciates that she is trying to give him as much agency as possible, but part of him very much wants to take that and use it against her. Mostly because she is _why_ his agency is currently so limited; the seal-work on his back lies unaddressed between them.

"You're overdressed," he says instead; he might ask about the fuuinjutsu afterwards, when she's more likely to let something slip.

Watching her strip out of her clothing purely because he asked is rather more appealing than it probably should be; that she then lets him manhandle her down onto his futon is even more so. There is no need for a genjutsu to set the mood _this_ time.

* * *

Afterwards Tobirama considers getting up to wash again, but decides it can be put off for a little while. Izuna is warm and gratifyingly pliant in his arms and it is… pleasant… to bask in the moment, her fingers tracing idle circles over the back of his shoulders.

Which reminds him.

"What's the fuuinjutsu on my back for?" He murmurs, studiously idle.

"Precautions," Izuna says, tilting her head back to meet his eyes in the half-light. "To control where you can go and when, to keep you in good physical health despite the heavy chakra suppression seals on the building, and to prevent any murder attempts by you or by my clansmen. Not everybody's happy with you, given the recent branching out into targeting trading parties." Her lips twitch. "But everybody agrees I have priority, given your repeated and very sincere efforts to kill me over the past decade."

So restrictive, as suspected, but also protective. The 'keeping him in good health' likely also covers ensuring he is _fertile_ , but he can let that pass for the time being. "Why me?"

Izuna raises an eyebrow, shifting the tattoo where it curves above her right eye. "I explained that."

Tobirama daringly pokes her in the ribs. "You could have just killed me and grabbed someone else afterwards. I _have_ spent the past decade trying to kill you, and would kill you _now_ if I thought it would do my clan any good." It wouldn't, which is why he currently isn't even _trying_ to come up with a workable method. His chakra is bound, hers is not; she has always been slightly faster than him but right now she is also vastly stronger as well. She _knows_ he would kill her if he could, that is why Tōka is here and Izuna has gone to such lengths to restrict his ability to act against her. She really does know him far too well.

Izuna sighs, lips turning down. "What could I _possibly_ find interesting about a man who loves his clan and loves his older brother, who would do _anything_ to ensure his older brother's success even if it means criticising him constantly and going behind his back to make sure he doesn't get himself killed on a foolish idealistic whim?" Her eyes slide past him as she reaches up to play with his hair. "A man so committed to his family he is willing to be feared and despised by them if it means they are _safe?_ A man with a brilliant mind and a strong arm, who can match me both on the battlefield and off it?" She sighs. "Such men are in short supply."

It is true that warriors of Izuna's calibre are vanishingly rare and that many less able men would find her battle prowess emasculating. Men able to match her quick and clever mind are likely even more thin on the ground, and many would find the prospect of a woman able to meet them on their own terms an affront to their sensibilities. Hashirama does not mind that his wife is far more brilliant than he, but Hashirama is not most men.

"And so you resort to abducting your most hated rival off the battlefield," he says blandly, mostly to see how she will react to the teasing.

Izuna snorts, rolling her eyes. "So dramatic, Tobirama; I've never _hated_ you. Mostly I disliked that you held up a mirror for me that I could not escape; there is no high ground in a feud, no person whose motives are more righteous than any others. We're all neck-deep in blood, obeying our elders and ruining our descendants' futures. Had I been born Senju and a man, I would be doing _exactly_ as you do. Had you been born Uchiha and a woman, you would act as I have done."

Tobirama abruptly does _not_ want to continue this conversation; it rattles things buried deep in the recesses of his mind that he cannot _afford_ to bring to light while Izuna is watching him with ancient, knowing eyes. So he kisses her instead, sliding his hands more firmly across her skin and rolling them both over so she is pinned beneath him.

"Again?" She asks as he finally pulls back for breath.

"Yes." He does not want to talk, does not want to think about the meaning behind her words, but better to keep her here as long as possible than have her be out and about, either training or being sent on missions where he cannot warn his kinsmen of her movements.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating Mondays and Thursdays for the next four weeks, which will hopefully get us to the end of UK lockdown as well as being a small celebration of recent successes across the pond.

By midday of his third day in captivity Tobirama has resorted to going through all his hand-to-hand and sword kata in the tatami room –the latter somewhat awkwardly without the weight of his sword to balance them out– followed by investigating whether he is any better at walking on his hands now than he was aged thirteen. It turns out his balance _is_ slightly improved, and being more practiced at ignoring Tōka's heckling also helps.

Izuna had stopped by first thing in the morning with bowls of millet and vegetable porridge topped with a fried fish each plus a bento of onigiri for lunch, which implied she would not be visiting again until mid-afternoon at the earliest. Hence Tobirama resorting to acrobatics to amuse himself; he is going to ask for something to read the next time he sees her. Even playing cards or dice would be _something_ , for all that the prospect of a full day of nothing but gambling games with Tōka fills him with a sense of creeping dread. They have nothing to bet with but secrets, favours or dares and that kind of thing _always_ goes badly for him when Tōka is involved. He has better luck than Hashirama at gambling games, but most of that is being able to calculate odds on the fly and bluff as needed, not the cards or dice ever favouring him. Bluffing against Tōka is a lost cause though; she knows him far too well.

Tobirama also spends an hour arm-wrestling with his cousin, because maintaining muscle tone is important and she will have enough trouble with her legs over the coming months without losing strength in her arms as well.

Neither of them has much stamina to speak of without chakra. It makes Tobirama resolve to keep up the physical exercise; if he can improve his stamina in the absence of chakra, then when he eventually regains it –and he _will_ , he _must_ – he will be stronger for the experience.

However if they get to the point where Tōka starts instigating nonsensical debates to pass the time then Tobirama's brain _will_ dribble out of his ears, and he is willing and able to resort to sexual favours to persuade Izuna to provide _some_ form of mental stimulation for him to engage in during her absences before they reach that point.

"Is there anything I can read?" He asks the moment Izuna steps into the genkan, before she has even taken her sandals off. Leather sandals for wearing in the field, Tobirama notes; training with her squad this morning perhaps?

Izuna pauses, one sandal half-off. "Now?"

"Yes please." If there are things she can get him _now_ then he will not have to wait through a vetting process.

Izuna slides her sandal back on. "Give me a little time, and be warned that most of it will probably be very dry."

"Dry is fine." Unfamiliar would be even better, but he can hardly ask for that when he doesn't have any kind of reference point for what the Uchiha consider normal reading material. The one thing he's _never_ going to ask for are song sheets; he doesn't _want_ to know how much more explicit the Uchiha clan's musical repertoire might get.

"I'll be back presently then." She turns around and walks back down the path.

"What, scare her off already cousin?" Tōka asks as he walks back into the tatami room.

"She's fetching me something to read," Tobirama defends.

"Well if she's already worked out that the way to your heart is through obscure reading material then I'd like to be moved onto the engawa, please; that will put another wall between me and the two of you, however flimsy it may be, and maybe the wails of the tree-spirits will drown out your undoubtedly vigorous 'gratitude'."

Tobirama rolls his eyes and resists the urge to make a _point_ of being extra-loud in showing his 'gratitude' to Izuna later; it is true that the atonal wailing that echoes through the woods when the wind dies down is _much_ louder in the Uchiha compound than when patrolling east of the river, but he still thinks it is more likely to be deer-scarers or some natural acoustic phenomenon than the ghosts or spirits various more superstitious Senju insist upon.

Time seems to drag as he waits for Izuna to return; Tōka keeps eyeing him and sniggering so he moves to the stone room to pace in peace and quiet, keeping his ears pricked for the sounds of somebody walking up the path.

He's on the step the moment he hears the front door open and hastily accepts the rather tall stack of bound volumes as Izuna also leans a hefty scroll against the wall before taking off her sandals; the top text is titled, _an annotated guide to the clans and customs of Iron Country by Uchiha Shibichari_.

However the stack is also surprisingly heavy without chakra enhancement; how much _does_ he rely on chakra in the everyday? It is somewhat embarrassing that he can't even lift a few _books_ without feeling the strain. He _expects_ strain when lifting his cousin without chakra, but an armful of scrolls?

"I also brought a basket, so they don't just get stacked in a corner of the tatami room."

Tobirama looks up and smiles. "Thank you; I'm not sure the wardrobe in the fusuma room is sturdy enough to take this much weight." The wardrobe is a tiny thing, only one drawer and a single cupboard cabinet, and the wood creaked ominously when he tried to put his weight on it this morning to make pulling on his tabi easier. Yes, it makes sense for the furniture in this prison to be as flimsy as possible, but it's also rather unhelpful when there's an injured person who will need solid things to lean on in the near future.

"So what are these?" He asks as Izuna leads the way into the tatami room, massive scroll balanced easily on one shoulder and a fairly high-sided woven basket half-full of more texts hanging from her other hand. That basket is large enough to serve as a decent desk if turned over, which is useful when the only _other_ item of furniture in the tatami room is a tea table that looks like it would collapse if anything heavier than teacups were placed on it, and not many teacups at that.

"This," she hefts the scroll so it stands up in one corner of the basket, "is a copy of the complete Uchiha legal code, eleventh edition. As copied up by Madara-nii after my father caught him 'gallivanting with that Senju boy' back when he was eleven." She offers Tobirama a half-smile, seemingly completely over that very stormy first meeting. "This," she removes the top book from Tobirama's stack, which is thinner than he thought it was, "is the trade branch's guide to the clans and customs of Iron, so probably the most readable of what I've brought you as it's intended more as an aid to good trading relations."

That book is leaned against the outside of the basket for now.

"These," she removes most of the volumes from his hands, "are three of the most recent five volumes of the Fire Daimyo's Court proceedings, mostly scribal copies with additional annotations as and when the Clan had people at Court; the other two are still in the basket. About twenty years in all I think, which covers all of the current Daimyo's reign." They are stacked inside the basket in such a way as to prop up the legal scroll, with the guide to Iron side in the gap on its end afterwards. "And the last book is the etiquette guide my brother and I both had to memorise before being allowed to so much as set _foot_ in the Capital."

Tobirama glances down at it; it is a decent thickness.

"Actually I had a tougher job than my brother; he only had to know how to act as a man and how women are supposed to behave. _I_ had to be able to demonstrate appropriate behaviour and language as both a woman _and_ a man."

Tobirama blinks. "The farce extends to Court appearances?"

Izuna rolls her eyes at him. "Of course it has to; you'd have heard about Uchiha Tajima presenting his daughter at Court _ages_ ago otherwise. Before you ever _saw_ me, even."

Well, when put like that it makes sense. Yet it also implies Izuna had to memorise this book before the age of ten. Which… seems a tad excessive to Tobirama, really. In that Tobirama doubts most children would ever want to, or in fact _need_ to study a dry etiquette manual to that extent, not when it would be easier to simply have the child recite the most relevant sections until they were learned by heart. A teenager on the other hand would have the attention span and actual focus to learn the details more in depth.

"Have you ever appeared at Court as a woman?" Tōka asks, twisting around so she can see Izuna's face.

"Once, at twelve," Izuna says quietly, eyes suddenly very far away. "It is not _expected_ for an Uchiha Outguard Head to present daughters at Court like it is for sons." Her lips twitch. "But as a married woman and recognised as the Head of my Lineage, I may well be called upon to represent my brother at Court in the future, and would of course have to take my spouse along."

So the etiquette book at least is _required_ reading, if no doubt exactly as dry as threatened; Tobirama makes a short, sarcastic bow. "Then of course I shall endeavour to also memorise its contents."

Izuna snorts. "There's no rush," she says vaguely. "Let me know if you want anything else; these were easily sourced but other items might require more time."

"Paper and ink?" Tobirama attempts; he would like to be able to take notes.

Izuna laughs. "No, fuuinjutsu-specialist-san, you may _not_ have the tools of your trade."

Tōka also laughs and Tobirama manages a rueful grin. He had expected to be refused, but at least Izuna was not offended by his asking.

"Dice? Playing cards?" Tōka asks hopefully. "Some cheap novel somebody doesn't mind parting with? I'll even take poetry; I'm bored stiff."

"I'll look into it, Tōka-san," Izuna promises easily before turning back to Tobirama. "Shall I leave you to your reading, Tobirama-kun?"

Tobirama remembers his manners, along with this morning's horror at the prospect of _weeks_ with nothing to read, and shakes his head. "The books will still be here later," he tells her. "How was your morning?"

He firmly ignores Tōka's theatrically shocked expression at waist height as Izuna smiles at him. "Pleasantly routine, as it happens. Training, a few meetings with clan elders; I have the rest of the afternoon free."

"I'd like to sit on the engawa, please," Tōka interrupts firmly, as though he and Izuna would take their clothes off right here in front of her if she didn't speak up at _once_ ; his futon is in the fusuma room and he doesn't _want_ an audience.

Izuna eyes Tobirama questioningly; he nods firmly. "Then I shall move you right away, Tōka-san," Izuna says mildly. "Perhaps lead with that next time?"

Tōka reads the subtext –that Izuna does not appreciate having Tobirama's attempts at flirtation interrupted– with ease. "Of course, Izuna-sa-sama."

Tobirama raises an eyebrow at his cousin over that 'sama' as Izuna turns to pick her up, but Tōka glares very pointedly so he decides to let it lie for the time being. Yes, he _did_ hear Izuna say the Uchiha were a noble clan. But Izuna has not insisted on any particular honorifics, and alternates between calling him 'kun' in public and with no suffix at all in private, so he will stay with 'san' when he must and nothing at all when he can get away with it.

As Izuna lifts Tōka –quite high off the ground compared to previous times, not at _all_ happy about the interruption then– and carries her outside, Tobirama slides open the fusuma to check the state of his futon. New sheets, which is a relief; Izuna brought those over at breakfast today, along with several more sets that are now in the cupboard of the flimsy wardrobe, and mentioned the possibility of assigning a laundress to collect a basket of laundry if Tobirama pushed it out of the genkan. Or dropped it carefully off the engawa. It's a little odd how very meticulous the Uchiha are being of the physical boundaries of the building, with Madara having skirted closest to the line during the wedding celebration when dragging Izuna back to the party itself, but he's sure he'll learn the reason for it eventually. If he can't work it out on his own in good time he can always ask.

Tobirama has already gathered that he is being dressed out of Madara's wardrobe, on the basis that none of the laundresses will _dare_ to tamper with their Heir's clothing on the off-chance of inconveniencing Tobirama, and that much of their food is currently coming out of the warriors' or the healers' communal pot. Evidently Izuna lost ground inside the Uchiha Clan after capturing both himself and Tōka then granting them her protection, and is still in the process of gaining it back.

Izuna returns to fetch Tōka's various accoutrements; Tobirama quickly joins in to make the task go more swiftly. It makes Izuna smile at him again, which is a relief; her becoming irritated with Tōka will not do him or his cousin any good at all. Not when Izuna is all that stands between the two of them and torture, suffering and death; assuming his cousin is not also coerced into concubinage, no matter how idiosyncratic the Uchiha clan's policies for it might be.

He makes sure to smile back, putting his profound appreciation for all the reading material she has provided him into it. It makes her own smile reach up her face to crinkle her eyes, so it is very much worth the effort.

Then the shōji are closed and he is free to express his appreciation more at length, as well as fish for further details of what she has been doing.

* * *

The chakra lantern Izuna has left with them does not work solely off chakra; it somehow absorbs sunlight, which Tobirama finds _fascinating_. He _itches_ to discuss the theory and mechanics of such a thing, but the only Uchiha he can talk to right now is Izuna and while he knows she _has_ made a study of fuuinjutsu, he has no idea if the lantern is also her work. Or if she even knows _how_ it works; he doesn't know which fields she may have studied, beyond her likely skill in invocation given what decorates his back.

The lantern just has to be left outside during the day, and will then cast light for as long as it has been in the sun; even on a dim, overcast morning in the third month of the year. The light can also be stopped and stored for later, which is how Tobirama has it lit this early in the morning, well before Izuna is due to arrive with breakfast.

He moved the basket of reading material into the fusuma room before going to sleep, so as not to disturb Tōka who is sleeping in the tatami room. He has light, he has books and a very large scroll and several hours before he will be disturbed; everything is right in the world.

Tobirama does start with the guide to Iron, because that was vaguely recommended as the most readable and it is also the thinnest volume, so he may actually finish it by breakfast. However he gets halfway through before the accumulation of references to etiquette and Uchiha laws reach a point where he's not actually sure what is being written _about_ , so he gets out the law scroll and carefully unrolls the first section across the floor.

The good thing is that each section is neatly numbered in the old Imperial style rather than with kanji and is scribed in a remarkably clear hand for having been written by Madara when he was eleven. The length of the law scroll suggests it may have been a far more effective and educational punishment than Hashirama experienced; being sentenced to work in the rice fields for a month cannot quite compare to this mass of exacting brushwork.

The upsetting thing however is that Tobirama cannot _read_ half of these characters at _all_. Carefully turning through the entire scroll –including the sections where the slightly modified 'concubine' kanji leaps out at him multiple times– reveals that the unfamiliar characters are heavily scattered throughout, not just at the beginning in what are presumably the oldest laws; it is not that the language has changed over time, but that there are dozens –possibly _hundreds_ – of kanji that Tobirama _cannot read_ because he has never seen them before. There are enough of them littered everywhere that he doesn't want to attempt reading the law scroll before knowing what they mean.

If he wants to read this he will have to ask for a kanji dictionary and hope that it is ordered by character base form rather than by complexity or worse, common pronunciation. Base form would make it so much easier to find the kanji he is looking for.

After re-rolling the scroll Tobirama turns to the etiquette book in the hope of finding something there, but there are five unfamiliar kanji in the very first section and he cannot divine their meaning from the context. Setting the text aside with possibly a little more force than is warranted, Tobirama turns firmly back to the guide to Iron. Yes, his understanding will be incomplete without the references, but he will have _something_ to build on for further study and greater comprehension.

He wishes again, futilely, for brush and ink to take notes with. But instead he will have to rely on memory and then re-read after expanding his understanding and adjust his perception of the text's meaning accordingly.

By the end of his first read-through Tobirama has more questions than he can keep straight in his mind and an underlying feeling of persistent dissatisfaction at his own ignorance. He had thought he was educated; he was diligent in his study of kanji under his grandmother and made the effort to learn a good number of more obscure characters only used in fuuinjutsu and very old clan records, which is more than Hashirama bothered with. But this had made it clear that his education, while sufficient for his position as his brother's future Second in the Senju Clan, is nowhere near as complete as it _could_ be. Nowhere near as encompassing at he'd _believed_ it to be.

It is acutely humiliating. Tobirama has never felt so ignorant as he does right now. All this knowledge laid before him, all this _insight_ in his enemies and he cannot _read_ it!

The moment he hears Izuna's voice outside the building he opens the fusuma and hurries into the genkan, opening the front door to look down the path. She is crouched at the front gate, a stack of bento beside her, petting a mostly-white calico bobtail cat and talking to it. It lacks the size or accoutrements that mark the Uchiha's Cat Summons, so it is simply one more of the many that congregate in streets and in settlements, attracted by the vermin that target storehouses and homes. Tobirama knows the Uchiha clan's reputation for being a tad odd about cats, so he waits for her to pick up the bento and stand again as the cat abandons her before waving to get her attention.

"Good morning," he says as she walks close enough to hear him clearly without him shouting or having to rely on her enhancing her hearing with chakra.

"Good morning, Tobirama," she replies, voice quiet and intimate and a fond note in her tone. "How are you today?"

He makes a face. "Do you have a kanji dictionary I could borrow? Or the time to explain some of the characters in the books you gave me? I find my education somewhat lacking."

Izuna does not mock him for his ignorance, or even allow the slightest hint of malicious pleasure at his plight to seep into her chakra. "I will see what I can borrow for you, Tobirama; it may take a while though and I can't stay for very long this morning as I have a training class to lead."

"A teacher must be early," Tobirama agrees; on the one hand the prospect of more Uchiha with Izuna's varied and unpredictable skill-set bodes badly for his clan, but on the other if she is at least staying within Uchiha grounds then she is less of an immediate danger to his kin.

"I have bought breakfast, but the medics tell me Tōka-san needs more than onigiri for her bones to heal well, so a warrior will bring you hot food at lunchtime," she tells him as she takes off her sandals. "He is just a teenager, has no tattoos as yet but is _very distinctive_ ; you will know him when you see him."

Tobirama accepts this pronouncement with minimal annoyance at the lack of further details; he is not sure he would be able to identify an Uchiha on sight based on a description, unless of course it is an Uchiha with a facial tattoo like Izuna's. About a third of the Outguard have those tattoos, and for some warriors they are the sum of the Senju's description of their appearance beyond 'Uchiha'.

Tōka is sitting up in the tatami room, so Tobirama just has to go and empty the chamber pot and bring back a bowl of water from the washroom for her to rinse her hands in before the meal. Izuna eats with them again; it is fast becoming a habit of hers.

Another regular occurrence is the presence of fresh fish in at least one meal a day, as opposed to simply dried fish-flakes. _That_ is something Tobirama would rather enjoy getting used to. He normally only gets to eat fish when away from home, but the Uchiha evidently manage to breed fish somehow, despite all the cats hanging around looking for an easy meal.

The fertile note in her scent is changing, acquiring additional and unfamiliar notes, but it is still _there_ so he helps carry the bento to the washroom for a quick rinse, then easily coaxes her into a short but intense encounter before kissing her goodbye in the genkan. She repeats her promise to look for a kanji dictionary for him and then she is gone.

Tobirama returns to the tatami room and Tōka, picking up the guide to Iron along the way; maybe between them they can puzzle out some of the kanji. If nothing else this will ensure she doesn't try to start one of those awful nonsense debates just yet.

He is also very curious as to who this 'very distinctive' Uchiha bringing them lunch might be, that Izuna trusts him so implicitly.

* * *

It is not yet noon when there is a loud knocking at the front door. Leaving Tōka to try to wrestle further meaning from the guide to Iron, Tobirama heads cautiously along the corridor to the genkan.

There is nobody there, but there are two bento boxes standing in the middle of the floor, wrapped around with a bit of straw rope. This is _not_ what Izuna said would happen; Tobirama eyes the boxes cautiously, then reaches out to grasp the rope.

Heat radiates from the small of his back, sudden but not burning; Tobirama freezes, then carefully withdraws his hand. The heat fades. He stares at the boxes, eyes narrowed.

Izuna promised that the seal on his spine was at least partly protective. Therefore, it is _likely_ that whoever has left this food here means him harm. Tobirama turns back into the fusuma room for the wooden hook Izuna had used to hang the sun lantern from the ceiling, then uses it to pick up the stacked boxes without touching the straw rope and move them into the stone room.

He does not attempt to touch them; he has no chakra with which to defend himself right now. They can wait there until Izuna returns this afternoon or evening.

He then returns to the tatami room to warn Tōka; that nobody actually _entered_ the building suggests that whoever left those boxes is more opportunistic than truly set on murder, but that may well change if they realise that whatever the boxes contained –and it may _not_ have been food but he is not about to check _either_ – has not had its desired effect.

"Let's move onto the engawa," Tōka says tersely; "you can see the front path from the right-hand side and in this situation I feel it would be safer to be loudly visible."

Tobirama has always spent more time on the battlefield than his cousin, who more regularly gets tapped for other kinds of missions for the clan, so he bows to her experience here. "I'll carry out a blanket and one of the heavier books." They may not be able to _read_ those court summaries just yet, but the volumes are hefty enough to make both a decent projectile and a rudimentary shield. In that anybody stabbing a kunai into one is going to struggle to yank it back out again. Not that Tobirama would wish such a terrible fate on a book, but better it get stabbed than himself or his cousin.

"Several of the heavier books," Tōka corrects him, but lets herself be carried outside in several stages without fussing. Despite the return of the sharp furrow between her brows that indicates his clumsiness is causing her pain. With practice he will surely struggle less to move his cousin about, but for now all he can do is apologise for his clumsiness.

Once on the engawa, Tōka with her back to the shōji and himself at right-angles for the best view of the front path, Tobirama determinedly sets about dragging his cousin into a conversation about the status differences in the various samurai clans of Iron, how a clan can raise –or indeed lose– their status and where she thinks each clan is based, going from the description in the guide and their own limited knowledge of the area's geography.

Up until today Tobirama would have said that no shinobi knew anything noteworthy about Iron, but the Uchiha have already proved him wrong there.

As the sun reaches its peak in the sky above an Uchiha comes into view, moving _towards_ the Diplomatic Quarters rather than simply passing by, tall but gangling in that distinctly teenage fashion –mostly discernible by gait given the concealing nature of Uchiha coats– with black spiky hair hanging forwards over his face and a set of several bento –larger than the ones left in the genkan– hanging off his shoulder.

Tobirama can't see his face from this angle, so can't confirm whether he looks 'very distinctive' or not.

"Uchiha-san, could you come over here please?" He asks, raising his voice just enough that hopefully the bento-bringer will be the only one to hear him clearly.

The warrior pauses, turns –eyes hidden behind the fringe of hair– and grunts, then grudgingly changes direction to walk down one of the curving paths amongst the shrubbery until he is facing both Tobirama and Tōka from just out of arm's reach. He then pushes his hair out of his face.

"There, happy?" he demands sulkily.

Tobirama gapes, wide-eyed. Tōka says something crude and anatomically improbable, tone heartfelt.

"I mean, I can _suggest_ it to Izuna-nee?" the teenager with _Tobirama's face_ says dubiously. "She's probably limber enough." His eyes slid to Tobirama. "Not sure if he is though."

Tōka bursts out laughing; it sounds distinctly hysterical. Tobirama tries to pull his thoughts together into a vaguely coherent whole.

"Your face," he manages.

The teenager's pout darkens to a glare as he moves his hand, letting the long spikes slide forwards to half-obscure his eyes again. "What _about_ my face, Tobirama-san?"

Tobirama realises abruptly that an Uchiha with _his face_ will get a _lot_ of probably-negative attention from the rest of his clan, firmly sidelines the screaming voice in his head demanding to know if it is one of his uncles or his father who is responsible for this frankly _uncanny_ resemblance and gropes blindly for his original motivation for calling the teen over.

"Food," he manages after an embarrassingly long pause.

The teen huffs, but the scowl relaxes back to the persistent pout. "Yeah, got your food here." He lifts the stack of bento and slides them carefully onto the engawa, meticulously ensuring his hands do not actually touch or overshadow the boards at any point. "It's beef stew with rice; Izuna-nee charmed the Inuzuka clan into giving her cows as a wedding present. One of them was a violent old bastard of a bull, but he's making excellent eating for the whole clan, so nobody's complaining."

Beef, even as little bits in stew, is very much a luxury; especially for captives such as they are. "Thank you for delivering it," Tobirama says politely, reaching out to pick up the stack; the seal on his spine does not react this time. Which, yes he should ensure gets back to Izuna as soon as possible; he can ponder how close the Inuzuka are to the Uchiha clan _later_. "Somebody left bento in the genkan earlier," he says.

The teenager's eyes narrow threateningly behind his heavy fringe. "Did you touch them?" he demands softly.

"No; approaching them made the seal on my back react," Tobirama says; Izuna will know what that means even if her messenger does not. "I used the lantern-hook to move them to the stone room, so nobody could make them disappear."

His black-haired younger double nods sharply. "I'll tell Nee-sama; she'll come over and deal with it. You eat lunch."

"Is Madara your older brother then?" Tōka asks.

The teen's mouth twists. "My oldest and only living brother, yes; Izuna-nee doesn't count." He eyes them both warily. "My sister saved me from Senju assassins when I was three. My father had it put about he'd lost _all_ his younger sons so the Senju didn't try to send _more_ to finish the job."

Tobirama can't ask this young man about his mother. He _cannot_. So he will have to live without the certainty of a clear answer. Because this Uchiha is the son of Tajima –in name at least– and one of his parents _must_ have had Senju blood for the resemblance to be so clear. Possibly Hatake blood as well, seeing as Tobirama knows there is much of his mother in his features.

"I'm leaving now," the teenager says abruptly. "You should eat inside."

Tobirama nods, stands and moves the bento into the tatami room, then carefully carries Tōka inside as well. Izuna's little brother stays standing in the garden until they are both over the threshold of the shōji, then he is gone in a whirl of hot chakra.

Tobirama closes the shōji.

"Well, that was fun," Tōka says, tone faintly stunned.

"Let's eat," Tobirama says, then stills as a very familiar but also dangerously _angry_ chakra signature charges into the building through the genkan, heading for the stone room. That is a truly _impressive_ response speed and says much of Izuna's current priorities.

There is a pause like the seconds between lightning and thunder as Tobirama serves first Tōka then himself, then the rage shifts to something cooler and even more perilous. Izuna's departure is slower than her arrival, but there is a banked implacability to her presence that suggests that whoever was responsible for that cleverly-timed trap will greatly regret their initiative in very short order.

He may ask later, or not. It depends entirely on how angry Izuna still is when she eventually returns this afternoon.

"– _saved me from Senju assassins when I was three."_

Tobirama tries to bury the younger man's words, but can't. Kawarama had been seven, Itama eight, but they'd both died in the field. How old had Madara and Izuna's other brothers been when they were murdered in their own clan compound?

Had it been after Itama's death? Or had it been _before_? Tobirama doesn't _want_ to think about it, but he can't help himself. In his shock he even forgot to ask the _name_ of the young Uchiha with his face.

* * *

Izuna returns in the late afternoon, brimming with a dark satisfaction that reminds Tobirama of Uchiha Tajima overlooking a battlefield and of his own father after a report of a successful ambush on Uchiha forces.

"I have succeeded in reminding everybody that you are the spouse of a Lineage Head, and that those legal protections apply regardless of your being my concubine rather than a recognised husband," she tells him after exchanging kisses in the genkan. "I've also secured a rare character guide, seeing as I was mostly sure you knew the regular ones already; I should get it tomorrow."

Less humiliating than a full dictionary and also significantly fewer pages to search through; Izuna is both thoughtful and considerate, continuing her trend of offering him unexpected kindness and generosity despite his circumstances. "My thanks; that will be most helpful."

"You asked," Izuna says easily, still radiating comfortably vicious smugness. "Anything else you'd like, Tobirama?"

The way she asks that question makes something in his gut twitch. Tobirama tries to ignore it. "Could you read me the first few sections of the legal code?" Seeing as Izuna has just used those laws to defend him from her clansmen, he should know what they are so he can invoke them himself. Also so he can find out what the likely punishment was without actually _asking_ , seeing as doing so might not go down so well. Thus far Izuna has showcased a talent for bending both rules and orders in her favour, but he's very sure she can also make a punishment for breaking those rules far more unpleasant than it needs to be while still preserving the impression of appropriate fairness.

"Of course; I can recite them for you by section and sub-section and then explain any particular characters or subtleties you want," Izuna agrees comfortably, taking his left hand in both of hers and idly rubbing her thumbs across his palm; the resulting sensory shiver makes the twitch in his gut bounce ominously. "How was lunch?"

"Lunch was excellent." It has been several years since Tobirama last had beef stew, let alone has been able to enjoy so much of it; whenever the Senju had beef it was generally limited to a small portion each and still heavily bulked out with noodles and vegetables. Today he and Tōka have been able to gorge themselves on meat, wilted greens and thick, flavoursome broth, soaking up the meat juices with the rice and thoroughly scraping the boxes clean. Beef is not his favourite, but it is no less enjoyable for that. He and his cousin spent the meal's aftermath discussing how close the Inuzuka might be to the Uchiha and whether Izuna might have shared her intended marriage scheme with them beforehand, but they had lacked the facts to determine more than that the dog-aligned clan valued the Uchiha connection enough to present her with whole cows rather than just cuts of meat.

Which brings to mind the less happy subject of the young man who had _brought_ lunch. "The warrior who brought the meal called you sister," he says, eyes not lifting from her fingers caressing his hand.

She picks up his other hand, cradling them one in each of her slightly smaller ones. "My little brother," she agrees. "I was nine when Senju invaded the compound to try and kill as many of the Uchiha ruling line as possible, starting with the youngest. My cousin Tokumi was only two."

Nine. Tobirama knew Izuna was about the same age as he was, give or take a month. That… could still be after Kawarama's death, but it was definitely before Itama's and Kawarama had not been killed by Uchiha at all.

"I have also lost younger brothers," he says quietly.

"Hmm." Izuna leans forwards, resting her forehead against his; their height difference is negligible. "It never gets easier, does it." It is not precisely a question, but he still answers her:

"It does not." She does not speak angrily of her brothers' deaths though; the emotion does not even shimmer in her chakra. She is simply sad. She does not seem to blame the Senju generally, or displace that blame onto him personally.

Who _does_ she blame? His father, for ordering it done? The assassins themselves, who no doubt died achieving their goal if she managed to save a younger sibling? Does he even _want_ to know?

No. He does not want to prod this wound in her soul. This is not the battlefield; he cannot hope to weather her reaction should she erupt into violence as so many Uchiha do when taunted over their losses. Tobirama takes the conversation in another, hopefully safer direction instead.

"The resemblance is unsettling."

Izuna chuckles, chakra wry. "I did say he was distinctive." She sighs. "I think our Lord-Father was hoping he'd grow out of it, but he seems to be growing _into_ it instead."

Tobirama decides to avoid any potentially perilous queries into parentage. "I hope it does not make things overly difficult for him." He is an enemy of the Uchiha by birth and duty, so he will not apologise for what he has done while defending his clan; however the young man who brought lunch should not be blamed for Tobirama's actions.

"The hair is the most obvious difference," Izuna muses, leaning more of her weight into him and swaying gently as her thumbs shift to play across the skin of his inner wrist, "but while his eyes are darker they have a grey tint and that enhances the likeness. And his hair spikes a bit like yours; I'm trying to persuade him to grow it out more. The most noticeable divergence after hair colour is the ears."

"Perhaps he will decide upon a tattoo like yours," Tobirama suggests, lifting his right hand to smooth his thumb along the curling beads and magatama of Amaterasu's necklace where they curl across her left cheekbone, her fingers still coiled around his wrist but not restraining him at all. From left temple to right temple, curving under her left eye then up the bridge of her nose to twist above her right eyebrow and the down again, ending just above her ear; she first showed up on the battlefield with it when he was fourteen and it had been so eye-catching he'd almost died a dozen times that year from accidentally looking her in the eye. Which is probably the point.

"Not _exactly_ like," Izuna muses, amusement crinkling in the corners of her eyes, "but a tattoo does seem likely, yes. Perhaps you will be able to convince him to go for something artistic across cheekbones and forehead rather than covering his entire face in geometric invocations."

"I will do my best," Tobirama promises solemnly, and smirks when this offer makes her lean back and laugh aloud. This is much better a mood than the one she arrived with.

"So, what would you like to do before dinner? Would you like me to start on the law scroll, or is there anything else?" She asks, dark brown eyes meeting his squarely without the slightest hint of red in the depths. She always asks or hints or implies, leaving it to him to read the nuances and offer her a clearer invitation. He knows it is not out of manners or shyness –the wedding party made it abundantly clear that she is perfectly capable of propositioning him directly without an ounce of shame, as Tobirama has _not_ forgotten that personal serenade or its audience– but what it could be instead he cannot pinpoint. Is this a game to her? Does she like the illusion that he is the one inviting her, rather than his being entirely at her mercy?

It doesn't matter right now though. Right now he needs to respond to every last subtle proposition, because the sooner she can confirm a pregnancy the sooner his family will know he still lives. "The scroll can wait a little longer," he tells her, letting his voice drop and soften. "I know the seal on my back is there to protect your clan, but thank you for ensuring it also protects me."

"How could I call myself a good spouse yet be careless with the wellbeing of my concubine?" Izuna asks, voice also dropping; her natural range is surprisingly wide, from the slightly rough tenor he is accustomed to hearing on the battlefield to the lighter alto she evidently favours at home. "I have a duty to you."

"And I to you," Tobirama murmurs, drawing her closer to him and taking a step back towards the fusuma room. "Would my Lord-Wife permit me to fulfil it?"

"My concubine has only to ask," Izuna replies heatedly, kissing him as between them they get the nearest panel open and step back into relative privacy.

He will ask her to read and explain the first section of the legal code to him after the meal, since she has offered her time so freely; right now however he will relish the small skirmishes still within his reach and her eventual desperate surrender to his ministrations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I skirt right up to the non-con line and lean hard, for all of one sentence and maybe five seconds of in-story time, before the line poings back to knock the offending character ass-over-teakettle.

Over the next ten days Tobirama learns Izuna's younger brother's name is Saburō and is also introduced to a brisk middle-aged woman in a dark green ivy-print kimono –Uchiha Maya– who is now officially the laundress for the Diplomatic Quarters. No more dubious food is delivered and more children become visible in the open spaces beyond the garden, passing through, playing and sometimes just hanging around to stare at him and Tōka when they sit on the engawa or leave the shōji open. Many of the Uchiha they see passing wear kimono, men and women both and of all ages, but Izuna always visits in the indigo shirt and trousers that Tobirama has determined is what counts as under-armour and work-wear in her clan, hair neatly tied up in her usual battlefield topknot with her bangs bracketing her face and hiding the soft corners of her jaw. Tobirama sees the utility of it, as this way her mobility is not hindered by kimono alongside the obvious advantage of chakra that she retains.

Tobirama finds he does not mind the small watchers overly much; children being curious is normal. Izuna's scent has shifted now –although he will not relent in his attentions until pregnancy is confirmed; it is not conception that is the problem for warriors but ensuring the pregnancy makes it past the first few months– and her visits have settled into a kind of rhythm. Three days straight where she will spend most of the day with him, from breakfast to early afternoon but leaving before dinner, then three days where he sees her only for breakfast and at dinner, lingering for a few hours afterwards, then one day where she does not arrive until lunchtime but then stays until dinner, leaving not long after eating.

With the kanji guide and Tōka's assistance he has made good progress through both the legal code and the etiquette book, but progress brings its own challenges. Such as the revelation that Izuna is, if one is properly technical and strict about the formalities, an _Imperial princess_. And her father is one the person in all the Elemental Nations with the best claim to the long-lost Imperial Throne. Should he, and by extension the Uchiha, care to actually do so.

On the day he and Tōka worked _that_ out he spent two hours lying on his back on the tatami, hands covering his face and whining quietly over all the many, _many_ ways the Senju Clan's behaviour –on the battlefield and off it– is an affront to proper precedent, the established social hierarchy _and_ the law as laid out by the Fire Daimyo. The _only_ reason he can think of for his family to not have been _utterly obliterated_ several centuries ago is that the feud must _predate_ the founding of Fire as a nation that encompasses the territory the Uchiha have owned since before the disappearance of the Imperial Capital. He's not certain when the feud actually _started_ , but it has supposedly been a feature in all of the Senju's chronicled history; there have been pauses and ceasefires, but rarely has one lasted longer than a generation. The record is three generations; more usual is a decade.

His brother's pleas for peace actually make the whole situation _worse:_ Hashirama expects the _Uchiha_ to relent and come to terms, when properly it is the _Senju_ who should be laying down arms and throwing themselves on the mercy of the enemies whose territory they relentlessly trespass upon. The Senju after all don't _own_ any land. His clan is not noble; they _cannot_ own land. Tobirama knows the Senju pay no tithes to the Uchiha, so if their settlement is actually _on_ Uchiha land then they are trespassing. And have been for _centuries_.

Tajima may be following in the footsteps of his forebears in not getting the daimyo involved in a 'private' squabble, but Tobirama knows Izuna much better now. If the feud is still ongoing when her father dies she will advise her brother to take the matter to the daimyo, regardless of that action diminishing the Uchiha's supposed independence and prestige, and Madara will _listen_. And then the Senju will be no more, obliterated completely in the name of making an example so that other peasant shinobi will show proper respect for noble privilege. Which, if logically carried to its full extent, would leave only himself alive out of his entire clan, as an Uchiha concubine.

Tōka had worriedly agreed to sleep in the fusuma room that evening, so that when Izuna arrived the next morning Tobirama was alone in the tatami room to apologise on his knees for his clan's many transgressions and beg her for the mercy he had no right to request.

She'd barely let him get through half his prepared speech before she was on her knees as well, pulling him up from the mats. "Tobirama, I _know_ all this. I've known for _years_ , like I've known your brother clearly didn't have the faintest idea. I was never sure about your father –I'm still not– but what Madara-nii has told me of Hashirama-san suggests that his desire for peace is genuine, no matter how unfortunate his many diplomatic failings."

Tobirama had laughed at that delicate recognition of his brother's hard-headedness, then cried his relief onto Izuna's shoulder. "If my clan _do_ lay down arms and beg your clan's mercy for their own actions and the actions of their ancestors, what will you do?" he asked afterwards, face still buried in her neck and heartbeat resonating in time with hers.

"You are my concubine, my spouse to whom I have a duty," she had said fondly, "and it would be remiss of me to not deal fairly with your kin. Should they turn to me with an honest desire to see the feud ended, I will argue for it to my father and brother."

He'd been so overwhelmed by relief and gratitude that he'd kissed her, then poured the torrent of emotions her promise inspired into physical release. He'd felt more settled and secure in both his own safety and Tōka's after that, enabling him to ask more questions, push carefully at current boundaries –some of which had widened as a result– and generally feel less like their lives are balanced on a knife-edge. Though his status is that of a concubine, in practice he is still held captive alongside his cousin and he is for all intents and purposes completely powerless, shielded by Izuna from the anger of the rest of her clan.

But then on the fifteenth morning after his abduction from the battlefield Izuna arrives a bit earlier than usual and wearing her coat.

"I've got a mission in an hour or so," she says apologetically, like Tobirama's not screaming with terror on the inside over her being _outside_ the Uchiha compound without his being able to warn his kinsmen of her movements, "So I brought breakfast over early."

Tobirama violently shoves his panic into a box at the back of his mind and smiles. "Will the food stay warm for a while? I don't think Tōka's awake yet." He knows she isn't, in fact, but he doesn't see any reason to tell Izuna that his sensing has adapted to the limitations of the Diplomatic Quarters; he can't sense beyond its walls when indoors or the boundary fence when on the engawa, but that's still much better than the stifling chakra-blindness he'd suffered on initial imprisonment.

Izuna smiles back at him. "Yes, it'll keep." She sets the bento on the floor by the shōji leading to the tatami room. "Sleep well?"

"Very well," Tobirama agrees, slumping artfully so the already-loose collar of his calf-length sleeping yukata falls off the back of one shoulder. "Come keep me company for a while?" He probably can't stop her from leaving the building eventually, but he can certainly delay her. And if she's late _enough_ then maybe her squad will grab someone else for this mission, or a completely different squad will be dispatched.

Izuna smiles, taking off her coat and hanging it in the genkan behind her; she's not wearing her armour, which is something. It implies he might succeed in keeping her in the compound today. "I'd be delighted to."

Tobirama applies himself feverishly to the task at hand, reminding himself of all the ways she likes to be touched, all the sensitive spots and different types of contact that coax her into reacting, starting slowly but then leaning into the things that make her shake and whimper and go weak at the knees. He wants to tire her out if he can –not that he has much of a chance when she has chakra to lean on and he doesn't but he _has_ to _try_ – and his desperate fervour awakens a matching urgency in her.

* * *

He has her pinned against the fusuma with her hands above her head and her legs around his waist –and after two weeks his muscles are definitely adjusting well to working without chakra– when there's a loud, piercing call from outside.

"Helloooooooooooo the house!"

"I don't care how fuckable he is Izuna-bi, get out here and put your armour on!"

Izuna leans back out of the kiss. "Duty calls," she says breathlessly, chakra sinking with disappointment.

"It can wait a bit longer," Tobirama insists, leaning in for another kiss and driving his body into hers a little more vigorously.

"Stop–"

He presses his mouth over hers and shifts the angle of his thrusts slightly, he knows she likes it when he–

Tobirama overbalances backwards as he is shoved bodily, unable to catch himself at all and hitting the floor with a loud crash; his head and upper shoulder thankfully impact on the futon, or else he'd be seeing stars. Izuna looms over him, his wrist-bones creaking in her grip and his diaphragm half-crushed between her thighs.

"Stop," she says flatly, swirling scarlet bleeding into her eyes, "means _stop_ , Tobirama."

Stop means stop; she said stop and he _didn't_ stop; she _made_ him stop; he's pinned he can't make _her_ stop what if she–

Izuna releases him, rising abruptly off his body and to her feet, chakra locked down too tightly to read as she grabs her clothes and stalks out of the yanked-open fusuma towards the stone room.

"I'm _coming_ you rowdy lot!" she shouts the instant she is out of Tobirama's sight. "I'm not late _yet!"_

"You were gonna be though!" drifts back in from outside, accompanied by cheery wolf-whistles and hooting.

Tobirama curls up on his side and tries to breathe evenly. His wrists are already bruising and his back aches, but the pain is grounding and helps him stay in the moment without spiralling away into panic.

He overstepped he _overstepped_ what is she going to _do_ –

A bucket of water is set down on the floor by his bedside with a click. "Clean up and eat breakfast with your cousin," Izuna says shortly. "I'll be back tomorrow, all being well."

Tobirama scrambles to his feet and drags his yukata back on, hastily tying the front panel closed and following her out into the hallway as she puts on her sandals and coat.

"I shouldn't have, I'm sorry, I–" is there anything else he _can_ say? What _does_ he say about this?

" _Please_ don't throw Tōka out."

He did not mean to say _that_ , but it came out anyway. Izuna turns around and looks at him, chakra still suppressed and bland battle-mask firmly in place but eyes dark and unthreatening. "Tōka has my protection on her own merits," she says coolly. "Your actions cannot affect that."

Shame swallows him whole; Tobirama falls to his knees. "Izuna–"

The front door is shoved inwards, revealing a quartet of semi-familiar Uchiha ranging from late teens to middle-age standing on the step. He had _not_ expected them to actually touch the building, much less _open the door_ with how careful every other Uchiha has been of the boundaries associated with his captivity.

" **Izu** – oh there you are." The teenager with the winged forehead tattoo grins shamelessly. "No time for another quickie taicho, you've had all the time there was already."

Tobirama swiftly computes how this scene must look to outsiders –him in his rumpled yukata on his knees, Izuna standing facing him with her coat unfastened– then rises unhurriedly to his feet and pouts, folding his arms across his chest like a thwarted brothel girl.

"Ruin my fun," he declares haughtily. Their audience all laugh; Izuna meets his eyes for a very long, uncomfortable moment before half-turning and taking her coat off again.

"Well give me my armour then, since you've decided to trespass on my patience already."

"Ooh, was taicho _busy_ when we showed up?" the slightly older Uchiha with the topknot asks, all solicitous interest.

"Definitely; taicho's pretty concubine is still in his night-shirt," says the oldest squad-member dryly, "and it's not even tied properly."

Tobirama refuses to blush. He _refuses_.

"Not much of a night-shirt," the teenager comments in between helping Izuna put on the suit of fitted and oddly-shaped enamelled plates that the Uchiha clan favour under their coats, "and he's only got your brother's cast-offs to wear, Izuna-bi! How's the clan supposed to take your devotion _seriously_ if your concubine is walking around in second-hand work clothes?"

If Izuna had pressed silken finery on him Tobirama would have loathed it with every fibre of his being. But if it is his _choice_ –

"You're not coming back tonight?" he asks, pushing plaintiveness and annoyance into his tone and posture.

He ignores the sniggers as Izuna turns back to eye him levelly. "Tomorrow, all being well," she repeats steadily.

"Will you buy me something, seeing as you're going out of the compound?" Tobirama almost can't believe his own daring, but Izuna has thus far _insisted_ on making him ask for things so she can't really complain about him doing so now of his own initiative.

There's a hint of something that might be humour under the battle-mask now. "What would please my concubine to receive as a gift then?"

There is a lively chorus of ooh-ing and wolf-whistles.

"Something of good quality to wear when my Lord-Wife is visiting," Tobirama decides, keeping his wording ambiguous enough that she will have to show initiative, "and _isn't_ indigo. If you would."

"Just one thing?" Izuna asks, the teasing closer to the surface this time, daring him to ask for more as she puts on her coat and fastens it.

"Just one _outfit_ ," Tobirama specifies, "this time." One _item_ of clothing won't do him any good when he'd have to wear it with what he has already.

Izuna raises an amused eyebrow as her squad all hoot and cheer behind her. "I will endeavour to bring back gifts each time I find myself obliged to leave you alone overnight then, Tobirama-kun."

Tobirama nods, because there's nothing else he can do at this point, and once Izuna's accepted her sword-belt, shooed her squad along the path ahead of her and firmly closed the front door he sits down abruptly, pulls up his knees so he can rest his on them and tries not to laugh too loudly or too hysterically. Izuna is going out with her squad on a _mission_ and the Senju are blind to both her and Madara's movements, his clan will _suffer_ until they think to reach for peace–

"Little cousin?" Drifts in cautiously from the tatami room as his anxiety and incredulity subside, reminding him that Tōka probably heard _all_ of that. Banging his forehead briefly on his knees, Tobirama gets to his feet again:

"I'll wash and bring breakfast through; give me a few minutes."

"You had _better_ ," his cousin replies, voice more firm this time, "and then you can explain what in seven _hells_ you thought you were doing there."

Tobirama winces. Today will _not_ be fun.

* * *

By the time Saburō arrives with lunch Tobirama has been thoroughly torn down by his cousin over his _utterly outrageous entitlement_ in thinking he could disregard a woman telling him 'stop' in anything pertaining to _her_ body –"if it is a battlefield you just _kill_ her Tobirama, if I _ever_ hear of you doing _anything else_ I _will_ murder you in your sleep and damn the consequences"– and the afternoon passes with Tōka refusing to acknowledge his existence and re-reading one of the three battered novels Izuna procured for her last week.

Tobirama spends the time going over the Uchiha legal code in greater detail, trying to internalise the various laws and how they interact with each-other. The language is complex and obscure even _with_ knowing what all the individual characters mean, but each read-through brings greater clarity.

Right now he is wrestling with the meaning of the wording of those laws outlining 'the protections afforded those clansmen not devoting their time and energies to military service' and trying to determine whether he falls under those laws or the ones describing proper behaviour _between_ warrior clansmen. The concubinage laws –which are clear in the specifics of his now _counting_ as a clansman under Uchiha Clan Law– do not actually specify that, so he is groping in the dark there.

The rape laws on the other hand are sweeping yet strict: any member of the clan who is of age caught or found guilty of pressing sexual intimacy upon a person not yet of age is executed, regardless of the willingness of the underage person involved. There is a citation for an exception there, but looking at up reveals it only counts if the two parties are engaged and have been since _both_ were underage, and both also have to be willing. Any _adult_ clansman finding themselves so pressured may take 'whatever means necessary' to escape such, up to and including the death of the one assaulting them, in the certainty that they will be acquitted of all wrongdoing even if their assailant is a fellow clansman.

Nothing is specified of gender or marital status beyond that single engagement clause; Izuna could have killed him for his actions this morning and would only have been mildly reprimanded for 'excessive use of force.' She did _not_ kill him though, and the bruises blooming on his wrists are well within the limitation of 'whatever means necessary.'

Ironically, if _Izuna_ were to assault _him_ he would also be permitted to take any necessary action to escape her, except that his chakra is bound, he can't leave the Diplomatic Quarters and thus has limited means to make said escape, never mind nowhere to escape _to_.

But that is implied in the concubine laws already, given the qualifications for having one at all, the gender specifications – _only_ male concubines qualify, so Tōka is safe from this at least– and the requirement that the Lineage Head taking a concubine must subdue them without external assistance, transport them back to the compound also unassisted and then 'demonstrate sufficiently stringent containment to ensure they pose no risk to other clansmen, with judgement issued by the First Assistant of the War Ministry, or the Junior Assistant of the War Ministry and warrior deputies of their choosing should the First Assistant of the War Ministry be the individual taking a concubine.' Those unwieldy Imperial titles being the technical ranks granted to the Uchiha Clan Head and his deputy, who generally oversees internal clan matters while the Head runs external relations; Izuna refers to her father as 'Outer Army Commander' when discussing his position within the clan and occasionally mentions duties relating to an 'Inner Army Commander'.

As a concubine, Tobirama's welfare is subordinate to the welfare of the rest of the Uchiha Clan. Izuna's primary responsibility as his spouse is _containing_ him, not respecting his physical agency.

And yet, she seems determined to do both. The rape laws do at least _explain_ why Izuna is only hinting and asking rather than demanding he submit to her wants, for all that his consent is heavily informed by his current circumstances. He is at least _not_ dead, being tortured for secrets or having them extorted in exchange for food and basic comforts. As imprisonments go it is kinder and more merciful than most.

Tobirama has always berated his brother for showing mercy to the Uchiha on the field; what good is that mercy when all it will mean is more Senju deaths? And yet, here he is, entirely at Izuna's mercy, desperately hoping to be granted by his enemy that which he has never extended in return.

Carefully re-rolling the legal scroll, Tobirama takes himself off to the fusuma room, straightens his bedding and buries his face in his pillow. His feelings are a confusing roil right now, but this way if he ends up weeping in frustration Tōka probably won't hear him. He _hates_ that he is so powerless that the _only_ thing that came to mind for stalling Izuna was the sickening combination of seduction and force, and is not sure what to make of the fact that he not only _thought_ of it, but actually _attempted_ it. The realisation that his ruthlessness extends so far sits very uneasily _indeed_.

* * *

Tobirama had thought today couldn't get any worse, but by early evening he is feeling restless and itchy under his skin. He runs through various unarmed combat routines until the meal arrives –grilled fish with cold soba and greens– and he feels himself settle as he serves them both, but once the food is eaten he can't stop himself from shuffling restlessly.

"For fuck's sake cousin, take yourself to bed and pretend Izuna's rubbing you off," Tōka snaps.

"What on _earth_ are you–" Tobirama begins, bristling, but his cousin interrupts him ruthlessly.

"You have spent _hours on end_ making Izuna moan your name _morning and evening_ for the past two _weeks_ , little cousin; don't be so surprised that your body has developed _expectations_."

Tobirama tries to object but _can't_ because now Tōka has _said_ that he knows she's _right_. He's restless because he _wants Izuna_. He _misses_ her. He wants her to be at the door so he can take her to bed and–

He groans, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in despair.

"Look on the bright side, little cousin," Tōka says wickedly; "she'll be suffering too. Now off you go, shoo; come back when you're less _desperately_ horny."

Tobirama escapes to the fusuma room before she can demolish what little remains of his dignity, but being in there makes it _worse_ because this is where he has been _having_ most of his sex with Izuna and his imagination is currently running wild with what might happen if Izuna _did_ walk into the building right now, if she pushed _him_ down onto the futon for once, unlaced his trousers and–

He buries his face in his pillow and _screams_. This is _so unfair_. Why are bodies so _stupid?_

* * *

By noon on the day Izuna is due to return Tobirama has changed his sheets, taken a meticulous cold bath, successfully cajoled Saburō into heating several buckets of water so Tōka can clean herself with hot water, washed his cousin's hair then combed and braided it, tying the ends with a strip of scrap cotton, shaken the tatami over the edge of the engawa, swept all the wooden floors with the soft brush found in a little cubbyhole under the tatami room floor, swept the engawa, scrubbed the stone room and washroom floors with a bucket of cold soapy water and then had _another_ cold wash, dumping the clothes he'd worn to do the cleaning in the laundry basket alongside his stained sheets.

"Tobi, stop _fussing_ ," Tōka says at lunch.

Tobirama glares at her over his mouthful of miso soup.

"Yes, you fucked up _massively_ ," Tōka concedes, pointing her chopsticks at him, "but all you got for it were bruised wrists and a matching bruise on your ass, she let you apologise and did, in fact, allow herself to be coerced into promising to buy you an expensive present. So she's probably _not_ going to come back and break any of your bones, however justified that might be."

Tobirama's wrists are indeed impressively bruised, matching purple bands that show the shape of Izuna's fingers rather clearly and are persistently sore. He'd been aware before now that shinobi could do horrific damage to civilians with very little effort, but he'd never quite appreciated what that might feel like _for_ the civilian until now.

It's not pleasant. His wrists are going to be tender and colourful for another week at _least_ , as is the bruise on his behind from being knocked flat that he'd not realised was there until a few hours after Izuna left. He's even more awkwardly grateful to her for aiming for the futon now; if she hadn't he'd probably have been concussed. At least the bruises aren't so obvious under Madara's shirts; the sleeves are slightly longer on Tobirama than Izuna's are on her, due to the older Uchiha's much more massive figure.

With Izuna _still_ not back after midday, Tobirama retrieves the rare character guide, sits on the engawa and sets about grimly memorising kanji, practicing the brush movements with a chopstick since he is denied writing implements. Thus far he's managing to recognise about a quarter of the characters half of the time, which really isn't good enough. Then, two hours later when his brain is protesting the strain, he switches to the etiquette guide to practice his hopefully-improved fluency.

He is maybe one-third of the way through the long, long section on identifying a nobleman's rank based on his clothing –which changes based on the formality of the setting as well as the age of the wearer– when he hears familiar voices.

"–know the shape of his _feet_ Izuna-bi?"

"I would be a very poor spouse if I _didn't_ know the shape of his feet by this point, Akira-kun," Izuna replies mildly, not visible from this angle but easily heard when she isn't bothering to keep her voice down. "He may yet get taller, but I don't think his feet will grow."

"So many broken hearts this time, Izuna-bi," an unfamiliar, deeper voice says roughly; one of her squad-mates hadn't actually _spoken_ yesterday though –the one with the burn scars on his face– so that makes sense. Tobirama clutches the book in his hands; broken hearts? Is that a tease or does Izuna _actually_ –?

"Oh _yes_ ," comes the voice of the warrior who'd commented gleefully on Izuna being _busy_. "Talking _all_ about your _lovely_ grey-eyed concubine and their fair skin and pretty, _pretty_ ankles."

There's more laughter as Tobirama breathes out, rises carefully to his feet and darts indoors to put the books down. Then he straightens his shirt, ineffectually finger-combs his hair –it already needed cutting when he was dragged from the battlefield two weeks ago and now it is _hopelessly_ shaggy– then sets his shoulders and walks into the hallway. He is going to look _desperately_ eager, but he needs to make it clear to Izuna that he's sorry and _wants_ to make this work.

"I'm home!" Izuna calls out as she opens the front door.

"Welcome home," Tobirama blurts out unthinkingly, tucking his arms behind his back to better hide the bruises. The Uchiha chorus behind Izuna –staying well beyond the threshold this time– breaks out in delighted cooing.

Izuna herself looks him searchingly in the eyes, then smiles. "How have you been, Tobirama-kun?"

"Lonely," Tobirama admits, then realises all too late how it sounds when there is muffled sniggering from the warrior with the burn scar, who is now bent double and _shaking_ with a hand firmly pressed over his mouth.

Izuna's smiles twitches up to crease her tattoo. "I brought gifts to make up for my abandonment," she says teasingly as she slides out of her sandals and hangs up her coat. The teenager with the forehead tattoo passes a large knotted wrap bag into the genkan –where did that come from, another bag, a seal?– which Izuna takes, then offers up to Tobirama.

"Come inside and show me?" he requests, stepping back into the hall. He's already put on enough of a show for the time being.

Izuna closes the door behind her despite the sighs and groans of her squad, then follows Tobirama into the tatami room. Tōka looks up from her reading, then sets her book aside when she sees the parcels.

Tobirama sits seiza at right angles to his cousin; Izuna settles opposite him, with a suitable space between them for the parcels to be passed over.

"Seeing as it is early spring," Izuna says softly, "I determined a complete outfit to consist of a nagajuban, a woollen kimono layer, a regular dōnuki and an outer kimono, along with various inner belts, two pairs of lined tabi and a decorative obi." She smiles at him. "I also have indoor slippers for both of you, which I have been most remiss in not providing earlier."

"Slippers first?" Tōka asks hopefully.

Izuna obligingly opens the top packet to reveal two smaller washi-wrapped packages; she hands Tobirama the one with the blue seal and Tōka the one with the green seal.

Tobirama does not open his, nodding to his cousin who grins gleefully and then carefully removes the knob of wax without tearing the paper. The slippers within are vibrant green with a white cobweb resist-print.

"They are perfect, thank you," Tōka says cheerfully, not bothering with any of the usual gift-giving formalities. Well, it's not exactly as though they would be anything but a farce given their current living conditions and his cousin's inability to actually stand, let alone walk. "I can stop wearing a blanket all the time to keep my feet warm."

Izuma hums, chakra still semi-suppressed but notes of pleasure clear. "Tobirama-kun?"

Tobirama opens his own parcel just as carefully as his cousin did; washi is precious and can be used to wrap other things in for safekeeping later. His slippers are –not blue.

They are instead _purple_ with a cleverly semi-random plum blossom resist-print. A fairly light purple, but still purple. Purple is _expensive_ , even in so small a quantity.

"You expressed an antipathy to indigo," Izuna says mildly, "and I did not feel that pink was quite what you wanted."

Tōka snorts. Tobirama has the abrupt foreboding that he will never again be given _anything_ to wear that is dark or medium blue. "I like them very much," he says; "I've never owned anything purple before."

From the lopsided quirk of Izuna's smile, Tobirama suspects that these slippers will not be the only purple items in his wardrobe for very much longer. Which reminds him:

"Izuna-san, I will need a better clothes' chest to store things in if you are going to present me with more than your brother's castoffs."

His spouse's raised eyebrow is merely amused. "I'll install something suitable in the stone room tomorrow; you won't be able to move it without permission, but there'll be room enough inside it." Her eyes slide to Tōka. "I'm sorry to leave you in much-mended layers for so long, Tōka-san, but it's standard for people who can't get up to wash themselves; this way nobody irreversibly stains anything they care about."

"That's fair," Tōka concedes. "And I'm not being wooed."

"That too," Izuna agrees mischievously as Tobirama glares at his cousin. "May I dress you now, Tobirama-kun?"

"Dress me?!" His voice _squeaks_.

Izuna inclines her head, eyes bright. "I have bought you a whole outfit; I'd very much like to see you wearing it."

"May I see each of the layers first?" He manages to keep his tone mostly level this time but Tōka is already grinning that awful smile that says this occasion is being memorised for future public teasing and mortification.

Izuna hums and opens the next parcel –cloth-wrapped this time– and produces a tightly folded square package of neatly tied white fabric with two pairs of properly-cut tabi laid on top. Tobirama accepts the parcel –the material under his fingers is fine cotton, not sturdy linen– and sets it aside.

"An undergarment is an undergarment," he says firmly in response to her questioning head-tilt, "and they all look much the same." Although the tabi are very clearly cotton-gauze-lined _silk_ rather than the usual coarser cotton weave standard for tabi.

There is a glint in Izuna's eye there that reminds him of Tōka planning a joke at his expense, but she does hand him another washi-wrapped parcel –a heavier one– so he lets it lie. This washi is fine and flexible, intended to be used to wrap and re-wrap the garment within in between uses.

Unwrapped, the promised wool kimono is a restful shade of tea brown with a subtle pattern of hexagons in the weave. While it may nominally be an under-layer, it is full-length so he could just as easily wear it on the outside if he wanted to. There is also a matching waistband with subtle loops and ties at one end, to keep it in place as he puts additional layers over the top. The wool is a fine weave and not itchy when he unfolds it carefully across his lap and feels the inside. He could wear this to formal tea and not feel under-dressed.

"With a suitable obi, I might drink tea with my Lord-Wife in this kimono," he says quietly, making firm eye-contact. "It is very beautiful; simple, yet elegant."

"I would very much enjoy drinking tea with my concubine," Izuna says, something complex and intense rippling through her half-veiled chakra as she holds out the next washi-wrapped package.

Tobirama very pointedly does _not_ look at his cousin as he carefully opens this next package, because it is _much_ lighter than _both_ the previous garments, which implies…

The silk kimono slithers easily across the dark, hard-wearing linen of his trousers, a rich mossy green with a simple but very tiny wave-crest pattern resist-printed all over it. Never in his _life_ has he ever owned anything this fine before, and it is being presented to him as an _under-layer_.

He looks up and possible protests die in his throat; Izuna's expression does not seem to suggest she considers this in any way excessive. This is not her way of making him stop asking for things, by giving him far more than he feels comfortable receiving; no, this is _what Tobirama asked for_ , no more and no less, and well within her means besides.

Izuna is _noble_ , Tobirama reminds himself firmly. Noble and evidently rather more affluent than the Senju have any concept of.

"This is very fine; I shall enjoy wearing it," he says, meeting Izuna's eyes as he folds the garment back up again.

"I am most gratified to have pleased my concubine with my humble offerings," Izuna says slyly. "Would Tōka-san like a fan to hide behind?"

Tobirama carefully refolds the silk kimono and wraps it in the washi as Tōka smirks behind her sleeve in his peripheral vision, then sets it aside. The last kimono _will_ be silk, as will the obi; both will also be more finely decorated than the kimono he has just set aside.

Izuna gives him the obi first; it is a stiff obi, richly vibrant imperial orange with contrasting pale cream, cleverly woven together to look like shibori and fully reversible. Expensive –it _is_ silk– but not excessively opulent; subtle and likely to go well with a wide variety of garments. He could wear it with the green kimono, in fact, although it would not do at all for a tea ceremony; it is too bright for that. It would still look very fine with the wool kimono on other occasions, the orange lifting its warm tones.

"This is a very clever design," he says, eventually setting it aside. "Versatile, complex and mimicking a common kimono feature. Where did you find it?"

"One meets all manner of interesting people on missions, Tobirama-kun," Izuna says lightly, "and if one is careful, one may even be welcomed back to visit them again."

She removes the last washi-wrapped parcel from the cloth protecting it.

The moment Tobirama has pulled back the paper he looks up sharply at Izuna, because yes, the colour _isn't_ technically indigo, but this particular shade of bright turquoise –called moistened indigo, indicating the blue was barely allowed to touch the fabric– is still _dyed_ with the indigo plant. The colour also gets called 'killing the white,' which is a very _pointed_ pun considering his hair and complexion. He knows quite a bit about dyes and their names, courtesy of a _very_ long and tedious caravan-guarding mission in his thirteenth year, featuring a merchant who thought the purpose of his shinobi guards was to serve as a captive audience.

"You mentioned a dislike for indigo," Izuna says, mild and toothy as any leopard, "but I thought this shade might suit you."

Tobirama unfolds the garment across the tatami to get a better look at it. It is _painted_ , not printed, even though some of the design is extremely regular –he winces internally at how such raises the price, as the time and artistry needed is so much more than a simple print– with shimmering silver-grey minnows in twos and threes scattered all over the garment, interspersed and overlapping with ripple-like swirls and circles in bluish-white, along with leaves in various shapes and colours, shading from grey-green through yellow-gold all the way to the deep orange of the obi.

It's stunningly lovely; he would not feel under-dressed at a court function and he _likes_ it. He _wants_ to wear it, and _damn_ Izuna for judging his tastes so accurately. Well, given all the effort and expense she has gone to for this, how can he _not_ wear them? And it will be nice to be dressed in something that _isn't_ Madara's castoffs for once.

"I would like to wear this for you tomorrow," Tobirama says steadily. "Would you help me dress in the morning, Lord-Wife?"

"It would please me very much to offer you my assistance in such, Tobirama-kun," Izuna says softly. "I should also dress for such a thing; it would not do for me to disrespect my concubine's efforts."

Tobirama feels a hot flutter in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of seeing Izuna wearing draped silk rather than indigo linen; he bends over to better fold the magnificent river-themed kimono back up into its protective washi wrapping.

"My Lord-Wife has travelled much today," he says carefully, piling up all his gifts –save the slippers– and gathering them into his arms. "Would Izuna-san care to rest awhile in the fusuma room before dinner?" He stands, stepping carefully into his new slippers.

Izuna's eyes slide slowly from his slippered feet up to his face, then she too stands. "A rest would be much appreciated." She follows him out of the tatami room, cloth wrapping still hanging idly from one hand.

Given that Tobirama does not _currently_ have a large enough clothes' chest, he ends up re-wrapping his new clothes in the fabric Izuna carried them into the house with. Izuna watches him from his futon, sprawled comfortably across the clean sheets.

"I am sorry about your wrists," she says quietly.

Tobirama sits down beside the futon. "I most assuredly had it coming."

Izuna pauses, visibly flicking through possible replies. "My standards are primarily for myself," she says eventually, "and I am disappointed by my overreaction."

Tobirama grimaces. "I meanwhile would rather like to bang my head on the floor a few times to make up for what my cousin rightly called 'utterly outrageous entitlement,' but you've already made it very clear you don't like it when I do that."

"An apology should not be humiliating," Izuna says, steel in her tone. Her voice softens. "But I accept your words."

"If you do just want to rest, that's fine," Tobirama says after a pause, eyes dropping to his fingers tugging at his sleeve-cuff, "but I really _have_ missed you."

Izuna groans, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her eyes. "My squad would want me to tell you that I was _insufferable_ without your mellowing influence," she says wryly, "especially first thing this morning."

"That's not a yes," Tobirama points out daringly.

Izuna moves her arm so she can look him in the eye. "Yes, I would like it _very_ _much_ if you were in the mood to undress me and lavish me with your extremely enjoyable attentions," she says frankly. "The only kiss I got today was from an overly friendly horse."

Tobirama can't help laughing at that woeful confession. "What a sorry state of affairs," he finally manages to wheeze after a full minute of Izuna pouting at him. "I shall rectify it at _once_."


	5. Chapter 5

Izuna learns of the Senju's first attempt to determine what has happened to their Head's second son and niece when she is approached by one of the Cats on her way to visit the Diplomatic Quarters, on the third morning following her abduction of –and marriage to– Tobirama.

"A spy was sniffing around the Diplomatic Quarters last night, Izuna-chan," the bobtail calico tells her, twining around her ankles. Izuna sets the breakfast boxes aside and crouches down to scratch the Cat behind the ears. Petting a Cat is always a worthy reason to delay, as well as being a handy distraction for non-Uchiha; this person is only petting a Cat and talking –somewhat foolishly– to a small furry animal, not doing anything worthy of suspicion. It pays to be discreet this close to the Diplomatic Quarters.

"Oh?" She asks. "What manner of spy was this?"

"A Hare; Senju-affiliated," the Cat tells her smugly. "I gave him enough time to determine that your snow-furred mate and his kin had been taken inside and not emerged since before pouncing; he will have scars for his audacity in believing he could trespass on _our_ territory unscathed."

"Such a cunning hunter," Izuna praises her warmly. "My thanks for your efforts, Honoured Cat." She doesn't know all their names –Cats tend not to share them save with their summoners and favoured and Izuna is neither– but she knows how to mind her manners.

"It _was_ good hunting," the calico agrees without an ounce of modesty, "and there will doubtless be further efforts." She extricates herself with ease from Izuna's petting. "When you have kittens, I wish to meet them. One of them might actually have cat-sense."

"I will not forget," Izuna promises, standing and retrieving the bento. She will not tell Tobirama about this, she resolves as she sees him waving to her through the open front door. He would try to sleep on the engawa at night, or pull his hair out to toss into the garden, or some other desperate scheme she would then have to stymie. Yes, no doubt he expects some kind of rescue attempt from his kin, but that is no reason to keep him _informed_. Cruel perhaps, but the lack of knowledge keeps him more cooperative and she desperately needs his cooperation to end the feud between their clans.

He would be disappointed in her if she proved so naïve as to think he would _not_ do everything in his power to escape her, no matter his acquiescing to becoming her concubine. After all, he can still be married to her from his own clan compound, even if he never sets eyes on her ever again. She has every respect for his ability to come up with new and original ways to thwart her, which is why she is taking as many precautions as possible and expecting him to start testing boundaries soon. It's rather inevitable.

"Good morning," he says as she arrives at the open door. Yes, it _is_ a good morning. Nothing has wandered beyond her plans and hopes as yet, and while that will not last, she can enjoy it for the time being.

"Good morning, Tobirama," she tells him, fondness welling up for this brilliant, ridiculous man who does not seen at all aware of his own inherent value as a person. "How are you today?"

* * *

"Why Izuna-bi, you're looking positively _mellow_ this morning."

Izuna waves a hand at her squad mentor, who is also her personal mentor; her father assigned Takao to her when she was ten and first being thrown onto the battlefield and he's been with her ever since.

The scar up the side of his neck testifies to her almost having lost him a couple of times, but making it her mission to _avoid_ combat whenever she can has kept him alive far longer than most warriors manage in the field. He's forty-seven now, which is five years older than her father, so he's likely the oldest man in the Outguard at this point. He's certainly greying, but apparently that's her fault for being hard on his nerves as a pre-teen.

"I'm married now, Takao-ji; you never comment on Jakuchi looking mellow."

"Jakuchi spent two years courting his now-wife, Izuna-bi; you hauled your lifelong battlefield rival over your shoulder, tied him down and then fast-talked him into becoming your bedroom plaything," Takao says, tone desert-dry yet terribly fond.

"At no point did I tie him to anything, Takao-ji!"

"I saw you with that ink-brush, Izuna-bi; when did you start messing around with fuuinjutsu, hm?"

Izuna grins as the rest of her squad arrives on the training field. "You know I've been experimenting since I was a teenager, Takao-ji." Earlier than that actually, but her teens was when she started letting people see what she was up to.

"With little things! Those storage seals, the camp concealment circle! Not invoking the _gods_ , foxling! Nothing good comes of drawing Their attention!"

"My seals draw less attention than my eyes do, Takao-ji," Izuna says steadily, "and Yatagarasu at least only hits what he's aiming at."

"I dare you to say that to Taka-sempai, Izuna-bi," Yufu teases as she walks into earshot.

"No thanks, I like my topknot attached," Izuna retorts easily. Taka's Yomotsu-shikome –has been for about three years now– and still clinging to her grief, so she's not the most rational. She's also one of the people angriest about Izuna bringing Tobirama home to father her children rather than just slitting his throat and burning the body in the woods, so Izuna's giving her old genjutsu sempai lots of space right now.

Taka is among those complaining that if Izuna wanted children, she should have found somebody less generally abhorrent than Tobirama to father them. She can't see that Izuna is very strongly disinclined to feed her children to the battlefield shortly after they enter their teens –as Madara's heirs her children would not have much of a choice there– and is looking for a way to enforce that. So to prevent that future and more immediately, prevent her miraculously rescued baby brother from being this season's heart-wrenching loss, she acted to end the feud in the near future.

Which hopefully will work out.

"So what is it today, taicho?" Akira asks, all but vibrating with hero-worship. Izuna's not entirely sure _why_ the fifteen-year-old thinks she's a role model, or why her father hasn't reassigned the sword-mad teenager to somebody more likely to instil traditional clan values into her, but Akira's going to be sixteen in another six months or so and when that happens she might end up _leading_ her own squad.

Quite a few of Izuna's former kohai have ended up squad leaders and they're all very good at reacting creatively to surprises, so maybe that's what her father sees her as being good at teaching. Izuna's told him already that she doesn't _teach_ that, but he just laughed at her and said that experience was its own teacher. Her father may laugh at her methods, but avoiding conflict whenever possible _does_ require a wide and flexible skill-set and keeps her at the very top of her game.

"Sword drills, Akira." First individually then in simulated melee; Madara's agreed to come and help for the second part, not that she's going to tell her Squad that just yet. They'd spend all of the drill time whingeing.

"Sword drills? Isn't that what you're doing with Tobirama?" Jakuchi asks dryly.

Yufu falls over laughing, Takao cackles and Akira bounces gleefully. Izuna grins a little manically.

"Jakuchi, if you think getting stabbed repeatedly qualifies as a sword drill then I _really_ worry about you."

Yufu and Takao laugh louder; Akira joins them as Jakuchi groans. "Do you _have_ to do that every time, Izuna-bi?" He complains, rubbing his scar where it pulls at the corner of his mouth.

"What, prove I'm wittier than you are? Yes. Absolutely," Izuna deadpans cheerfully. "Also my jokes are dirtier and you should just accept that gracefully."

"He'll learn, Izuna-bi," Takao chuckles. "Now, let's see something resembling order you lot. Akira, your reverse-grip drills need work; I'll supervise. Yufu, basic drills; I don't care that your fire jutsu and wire-work are top-notch, that blade isn't supposed to be decorative. Jakuchi, you and Izuna do a standard run-through and watch each-other for flaws."

"Yes mentor," Izuna says in chorus with the other three. Madara won't be joining then for a couple of hours, so they should make good use of the time.

Madara, when he does arrive, doesn't actually _join_ them per se; instead he herds them over to a different training field closer to the river.

"So what are you torturing me with today, nii-san?" Izuna asks warily, eyeing the spring mud, high water and vigorous young reeds edging the field all down one side.

Her big brother –her much loved, much worried-over, sensitive, awkward, intensely body-shy, appallingly guilt-prone, hawk-loving, messy-haired and powerfully muscled aniki whom she loves so much it _terrifies_ her sometimes– smirks cheerfully at her.

"There's five of you and one of me, Izuna-kun; I'm _sure_ you can keep me contained with just swordplay and genjutsu if you make an _effort_."

"Will _you_ only be using blades and genjutsu?" Akira asks warily. Her kohai used to be so cautious of Madara, but Izuna is very proud of how much contempt for her nii-san's station she has managed to breed in the younger Outguard members through familiarity with his frankly adorable obsession with falconry. Along with encouraging them to see the long silences and regularly archaic language as awkwardness rather than arrogance or intimidation.

"Of course not," Madara says teasingly; "What battlefield is ever _fair_? I'll be using earth jutsu as well."

A decent handicap, but her brother has chakra in _spades_ and the Naka being full of spring melt means it will react unpredictably to his moving the surrounding terrain to suit his needs. Also that much of the 'earth' being thrown at them will be _mud._

"Form up," Izuna orders her squad ruefully; this is most _certainly_ her brother's vengeance for her surprise marriage, but mud ground into every visible inch of skin and hair is far from the worst thing he could have orchestrated. It will even be helpful; with Tobirama contained she will have to adjust to fighting other Senju, who will probably try to overwhelm her en masse with jutsu rather than risk their lives against her greater speed with blade in hand.

That doesn't mean she's not going to curse Madara out when trying to wash mud from her hair before lunch though.

* * *

By noon Izuna is _sodden_. Her hair is the least of it; she has mud down her neck inside her coat, up her sleeves to the elbow and up her legs almost to her _waist_. The outside of her coat is patchy brown rather than deep blue, the mud already drying in places, and Izuna knows the laundresses will skin _all_ of them if they don't get as much of the sediment out before it dries on and stains.

Similarly, if they do that _upriver_ of where the laundry happens, mud will be the least of their problems. Izuna therefore leads her squelching little cavalcade downstream –Madara at the back, considerably less smeared and disgustingly smug– until they are below the laundry but above the tanners, not far from the Outguard Hall, then catches Yufu's eye.

Akira is their first victim, tossed bodily into the river as she squeals. Jakuchi is second, caught due to laughing too much at Akira's plight to defend himself properly. Takao, not being a fool, is already waist-deep in the river when Izuna turns on her partner and trips Yufu face-first into the knee-deep water.

"Treachery!" The older woman declares as she rises spluttering into a sitting position. "Betrayal! Izuna-bi you _cad!"_

Izuna laughs, knowing her older brother is coming up behind her with gleeful intent. As he tries to pounce she twists, tossing him over her hip and into the middle of the river. He lands with a massive splash and she throws herself after him, crashing into his chest as he surfaces and knocking him back under again.

"Payback's a _bitch_ nii-san!" she crows, rubbing her muddy sleeves in his face.

Madara wrestles her under the surface a few times, getting both of them thoroughly soaked through and loosening a lot of the mud in their hair and clothing before tossing his sword-belt back onto the bank, taking off his coat and holding it in the current, so more of the dirt will come out. Cleaning a coat in the river is something of a two person job; the current is fairly strong this early in the season, even in the shallower parts, and nobody wants to lose clothing.

Izuna helps him with his sleeves, rubbing them between wet hands, and once the garment –both outer cotton and inner silk– is free of obvious muddy stains her brother squeezes it out and tosses it over a nearby stand of reeds to dry, then helps her out of her own coat and reciprocates.

"Must you always be front and centre when your squad fights, otōto?" Madara asks quietly as they work. She has been 'otōto' to him since she was nine and he ten, that awful night of bloodshed when the Senju slaughtered Myōkō – _his blood and innards dying their shared futon black_ – and she saved Saburō for the low, low price of a week of acute chakra exhaustion and eyes slowly going blind over the years since.

Eleven years since then, since their father took Madara aside and drilled into her gentle, loving nii-san's skull that for Izuna to be _safe_ she would _always_ be spoken of and to as though she were her father's second _son_ rather than his only daughter. Saburō, raised by Nini-ji and Naka-ba until he was seven and by Ohabari-oba thereafter, was not so imposed upon and thus still calls her nee-chan. Madara's only indication that he recognises her gender does not match the Outguard pronouns is in his choice of birthday gifts.

She loves her older brother so _much_.

"I have a gift for being the centre of attention, Madara-nii," she teases gently as between them they drive the mud from her coat, both the sturdy outer and the patchwork silk lining showing Ame-no-Uzume dancing on an upturned washtub to coax Amaterasu-Ōmikami from the cave she had hidden herself in. "How many times did Jakuchi or Akira almost catch you out while you were focused on me?"

"You take too many risks," her brother scolds, but there's no sting in the rebuke, only boundless fondness. "That whole business with Tobirama–"

–something _moves_ in the reeds beside her brother's drying coat–

–all the _real_ birds were frightened away when she and Yufu first tossed Akira into the river–

–her vision tints red; the egret is too large, its chakra too developed, phantom wings spread wide to launch itself clear–

" _Stop for me, dear one,_ " she croons. Her eyes sting with Mangekyō, even just for the instant needed for her brother to lunge into the reeds, close a hand around the summons' neck and break it with a quick, brutal twist, and she staggers blindly up the bank rubbing her closed eyelids.

"I'll fetch Yori-san," Yufu says hurriedly, her bonfire chakra swiftly vanishing from Izuna's range.

"Izuna-kun." Her brother's chakra envelops her, furnace-hot, sun-bright and terribly comforting. "Jakuchi, see to my brother's sword and coat." So kind of her brother to volunteer her newest squad-member to get scolded by the laundresses.

"Let me get you out of that armour, Izuna-bi," Takao murmurs, ginger lily chakra and iron-scent reaching for the hidden catches. Izuna lets herself be unpacked from enamelled steel as her cousin-in-law arrives in a flurry of safflower chakra and the pungent scent of lye.

"No permanent damage this time, Izuna-sama," she says after almost a full minute with fingers pressed to Izuna's temples and gentle tendrils of cool, feathery chakra caressing the tenkutsu around her eyes.

"Thank you Yori-san," Madara says gravely as Izuna dares to open her eyes again, squinting slightly at the brightness. "Take my brother back up to the Hall and help him wash the rest of the mud out of his hair, please; I must lead the inquiry down here and talk to the Cats."

"At once Madara-sama."

Izuna lets herself be dragged off; were it over anything but her eyes she would protest, but she has learned to pick her battles since she was nine.

It has been most of a week since the Cats caught the Hare; they were probably due another espionage attempt. However seeing as the Egret was lurking worryingly close to Outguard Headquarters, her father will no doubt have a _lot_ to say to Cats, Crows and whichever sensor was on duty.

* * *

It's been two weeks now since she brought Tobirama home and the clan seems to have settled. Tobirama has also settled; in part –Izuna suspects– because it will take another fortnight at _least_ to determine whether he has succeeded in impregnating her. Well, _that_ is actually pretty much a given, what with the fuuinjutsu up his spine and the various herbal concoctions she's been drinking morning and evening, but what they _can't_ guarantee is whether the fertilised egg will successfully implant in her womb and stay there past the first month or so of gestation. The first month is the most difficult hurdle, but it is only once she is three months along that the likelihood of carrying to term reaches near-certainty.

She's eating appropriately and continuing to enjoy as much intimacy with Tobirama as he's willing to allow –which is a _lot_ all things considered– but what comes next is otherwise out of her hands. Yori's warned her already that she's very likely to have twins given the combination of the fertility tinctures and her concubine's naturally high yang energy, but Izuna's willing to risk it; fraternal twins mean twice the chances of one surviving to be born, even if it also means she is more likely to experience complications to her own health.

It has been rather grey and dull recently, but today is a beautiful spring morning and Izuna rises with the noisy pre-dawn chorus, bathes quickly then adjourns to her study that used to be her mother's sitting room. Her own armour is here on its stand, along with her sword and other weapons, but she won't need those today; she has a mission tomorrow, so today her squad will all be seeing to families, friends and last-minute weapons checks.

Izuna however looked over her mission gear last night, so this morning she will be tending to the other armour and weapons taking up space in here; those belonging to Tobirama and to Tōka. Looking over Tobirama's sword reveals it is still in as good condition as it was ten days ago, but Tōka's has not been put back together quite right. Grabbing her sword-care kit Izuna settles on the engawa, looking east into the sunrise, and sets about taking the katana apart, meticulously cleaning each piece and carefully reassembling the whole.

Once she has finished the sun has cleared the horizon and she can smell the food Shige-chan is preparing in the Hall's kitchen; soon she will have to collect breakfast for herself, Tobirama and Tōka and head over to the Diplomatic Quarters.

For now though she will put on her spare sandals, step off the engawa into the garden and try a few moves with Tōka's sword. Just to make _absolutely sure_ everything is where it should be and the bamboo-patterned tsuba won't come loose again.

It is truly a wonderful start to the day.

"Tobirama's sword not enough for you, cousin?"

Izuna looks up from her careful kata with a grin. "Hikaku! How are you this fine morning?"

"Very well thank you, and don't think I don't see you avoiding my question," Hikaku teased her. "You're getting so much use out of a different blade already; can't you leave this one to somebody else?"

"My ancestor Biei-Fuji would tell you that one can _never_ have too many swords, cousin," Izuna says wickedly. "Tobirama's is very fine _indeed_ , but so is this one."

Hikaku laughs. "Well, I can concede that my former opponent had excellent taste in weapons," he chuckles, glancing into the building through the open shōji, "but the armour as _well,_ cousin? Why bother? It's _junk_. And not even _pretty_ junk."

It is true that Tōka's armour is heavy and crudely made and Tobirama's is hardly better. Painted yes, and with slightly better coverage, but the quality is consistently abysmal. "I can't keep a trophy to remind me of my successes?"

"Surely the swords are more than enough for _that_ , cousin?" Hikaku asks slyly, stepping closer to elbow her in the ribs. "Just give the armour for the smiths; maybe they can actually turn it into something _useful_. It's not like any of it's ever going to get worn again."

Izuna opens her mouth to reply but the air is abruptly filled with raucous corvid screaming; she instantly sheathes the sword and rolls under the engawa, dragging Hikaku with her as the furious murder descends on the willow tree by the pond, sending songbirds scattering in terror.

One of the fleeing bush-warblers vanishes in a puff of smoke; Izuna quickly goes over the last few minutes' conversation in her head and breathes a sigh of relief; the secret of her gender is safe at least. Whether the Senju will divine that their captured kin are still among the living depends entirely on how well the bird summons is able to replicate tone and whether the person receiving the message is able to interpret the innuendo. The crows are certainly good with faces and excellent mimics, but only those most heavily socialised with their summoners can parse human innuendo.

Well, they'll find out which one it is soon enough. Not the best start to the day perhaps, but it will hopefully improve from here.

* * *

The morning after her return from the mission Takao dubbed 'the heartbreaker' –to repeat clients, thus Izuna's willingness to expound happily on having a pretty concubine to spoil now rather than choosing to deflect the various propositions and flirtations with genjutsu and empty insinuations– dawns grey and wet, a thick blanket of clouds occluding the sky and swathing everything for fifty miles at _least_ in fine, persistent rain. There's no wind at all, not a single breath, so the rain will no doubt continue until the clouds have emptied themselves; that could be as early as this evening or as late as tomorrow afternoon, depending on whether the intensity changes over the course of the day.

Izuna is grateful for the rain, for all that it will mean she needs to take an umbrella when she visits Tobirama today. She knows from listening to the farmers that the crops need the water, the fishponds will benefit and Outguard training will be minimal, because training in weather like this churns up the training fields, which would then remain a stubborn morass of mud unless left to their own devices for several months. Better to pause training in the short term than limit future opportunities.

It is a day for reeling silk, playing indoor games, telling stories and writing letters. And drinking tea with one's spouse, of course; the table in the Diplomatic Quarters did not look very sturdy, but it should hold an iron teapot on a stand without collapsing. Hopefully. She will check before attempting it.

Izuna sets aside her own tetsubin and the set of guest cups that came out of one of the first firings of the still-new clan pottery –persuading her father to take on a civilian potter had been hard, but the profits in the clan account books already speak for themselves– then browses her shelves and drawers for more indoor activities.

She would knit, except that would mean carrying pointy metal and sturdy silk thread into Tobirama and Tōka's vicinity and that is still not wise. She likewise cannot take her writing box, because she does not trust Tobirama with ink. She is trying to give him enough space that he does not feel desperate enough to try drawing fuuinjutsu with a fingertip in blood, and reminding him of what he cannot have is unwise.

She settles on cards, dice, a few paper games copied over from her previous life –the murder mystery clue game is now a clan favourite, although she did have to adapt it– and a few floor cushions. The air is colder today, so something padded to sit on will be welcomed.

Then after doing her hair in a softer style it is time to choose her outfit. Izuna lingers over the vivid sparrow-green kimono lavishly embroidered with chrysanthemums and phoenixes before setting it aside with a sigh. She can't put on 'visiting wear' to see her concubine, not without implying he is not truly part of her household. Going over her other kimono –far more numerous now than they were even a month ago; her unannounced fox-wedding prompted most of the Lineages and trading families to present her with swiftly-available gifts and the clan's silk output is now both stable and respectable– she eventually settles on a parrot-green kimono with horizontal golden threads woven in here and there like mist over water, with further tiny matching crane silhouettes embroidered up it.

The hakama that go best with this kimono are an unlikely shade of coral pink, cheerfully embroidered with colourful folding fans scattered across the folds from over the ankle to just below the knee. Izuna aches briefly for the opportunity to show off an elaborate obi, but she cannot afford to limit her movements and so hakama it will have to be. She does at least have a fun range of pretty colours to show off there as well.

Undershirt and half-slip, white nagajuban –Tobirama is wrong that there are no other colours but she has a plan for how to spring that on him already– a dōnuki layer with a vivid jonquil-yellow stitched-on collar to lift the green of the kimono and then the kimono itself, belted with a narrow stiff obi in red. Then the richly pink hakama over the top, the narrow obi all but vanishing behind the hakama ties, and of course white tabi are already on her feet since she will be walking over in geta. Then it is simply a matter of putting all the things she wishes to take with her into the handy seal-bags she designed as a bored thirteen-year-old trying to recreate movie magic with fuuinjutsu, collecting breakfast from Shige-chan in the kitchen and taking care to pick up her umbrella before heading outside.

Her father will be in the document room with Madara at this hour of the morning, instructing him in the minutiae of running the Outguard, so she escapes without having to roll her eyes at pointed comments over her dress sense, foolish optimism and the incautious baring of her heart to a hated enemy. Tobirama and the Senju more generally may be her _father's_ hated enemies, but they are not hers or her brother's.

She hopes that her gamble in wedding Tobirama will lead to peace. She prays for success in her endeavours morning and night, but has had no more guidance since that evening shortly after Saburō turned fourteen when she was reading the clan legal code in an attempt to defeat insomnia and the concubine laws all but jumped out at her.

The Uchiha say the gods help those who help themselves. Izuna doesn't really _believe_ in kami like that, but then again Madara doesn't really either, not anymore, and neither does her father. Her own anomalous faith in someone quite different therefore passes unremarked-upon, if perhaps not unnoticed.

She collects her camellia-pattered umbrella, slips into her geta and heads out into the steady rain. Tobirama asked her to help him dress in his new clothes this morning, which will likely end up being a very distracting exercise in self-control and deferred pleasure for both of them.

Izuna can't wait.

* * *

On the morning of the memorial Hashirama wakes to grey dimness and the soft rattle of rain. Sliding out of bed without disturbing Mito, he walks to the window and peers between the shutters; misty curtains of rain fill the courtyard between his wife's rooms and the main Senju Clan Hall, as though the heavens are weeping.

He leans his forehead against the cool wood, ears filled with the gentle rush of rain, and lets his own tears fall silently. It is bad enough to lose Tōka, the older cousin who was more like a sister, who wrestled him into mud-puddles when he was a teenager and teased him _terribly_ when he fell in love but gave good advice on courting gifts Mito would appreciate, but _Tobirama_ –

Oh, his baby brother. His last, precious baby brother whom he _definitely_ did not appreciate enough, who is now–

Hashirama shudders convulsively. He can't. He just. Can't. Tobirama was his _brother_ , his _last_ brother. And yet, to abandon his dream for peace _now_ would be unforgiveable. There is not one of his clan and kin that has not lost siblings and parents and sometimes even children, and he was planning on expecting _them_ to abandon future vengeance for their dead, so to change his mind simply because he has once more suffered what _they_ have? It would do nothing except allow this feud to roll on, swallowing more fathers and brothers and sons.

And mothers, sisters and daughters.

Tobirama was always trying to protect him; why does he only see that _now?_ Getting between him and their father when they were children at Kawarama's grave, constantly poking holes in Hashirama's plans so he took care to consider contingencies; he'd always been so _angry_ when his brother did that, saw it was Tobirama dismissing his dream, but was it _really_ that? Or was it Tobirama wanting to make sure Hashirama's goals were _achievable?_

He doesn't know anymore. Tobirama was their father's favourite, the dutiful, pragmatic and efficient warrior, but Father waited _two entire days_ before ordering Toriima to send a hare summons into Uchiha lands to determine what had become of his niece and second son. Then when the hare returned, shaking and bleeding, to report that he had not seen either Tobirama or Tōka but their scents vanished into a building heavily fortified with fuuinjutsu, Father had immediately declared it unlikely either warrior would live to be rescued. He also decreed that poor Hagi's failure to pass unnoticed would have increased security on the Uchiha settlement, so further investigations into what secrets Tobirama and Tōka had betrayed before dying would have to wait several days _more_.

Hashirama had been there when Cousin Kikyō had broken down in tears at being told by an elder of the egrets that Sunlight-On-Water had died at a warrior's hand, rendering her contract with them void forever. Kikyō's incoherent protest of 'orders' had been met with the rebuke that _she_ had signed the egrets' contract and _she_ had sent Sunlight-On-Water into danger against the terms on that contract, and that she should not offload her responsibility onto others who had not made the commitments she had.

Kikyō losing her contract also meant she lost her position within the clan; her role as a senior member of the Senju's communications collective has passed to another cousin and she has been demoted to copyist. Hashirama feels that is unfair of his father when Kikyō has already lost a dear friend in obeying him, but there is nothing he can do to change it.

His father had decided after Hagi's return that the reason the Uchiha were _still_ not attacking despite having the upper hand was that they were busy pulling all possible details of the Senju's rosters, movements and training from Tobirama's mind, so had set about completely re-organising the patrol patterns, squad groupings, security codes and other logistical details; he is in fact still thoroughly engrossed in that immense task. So _much_ that Hashirama hadn't quite realised his brother was involved in, freeing up their father's time for other things, time that his father is now having to put in to re-fashion _everything,_ or at least adjust it enough to counter Uchiha knowledge.

His father's preoccupation with re-working the clan's entire defensive system however had given Hashirama the opportunity to carefully and privately cajole his cousin Kurin-kun into sending one of his bush-warblers to find Izuna. Not to look for Uchiha secrets! Just to find Madara's brother at home and see if anything can be overheard of Tobirama's fate. Please, even a few words would be enough?

Hashirama would have _liked_ to send the tiny messenger-summons after Madara, but Madara is a rather quiet person off the battlefield while many Senju have testified that despite Izuna's almost-silent focus in pitched combat, when on missions with just his squad he is _very_ talkative, both in various civilian settlements and when fighting. Tobirama's the only one skilled enough to make him stop chatting so as to focus fully on the battle to hand; Hashirama probably is too, but he's never fought Izuna.

Except that when the tiny songbird _does_ return, shaken and trembling from a near-miss with the Uchiha's crow summons, it is with the _worst possible news_. When his father heard the recital of Izuna's morning conversation with the Deathblow, Tōka's sword in the hands of Tajima's second son and Tobirama's beautiful watermarked Uzumaki blade spoken of so carelessly, he announced that there would be a memorial at the clan shrine in three days time. Why _else_ would the Uchiha speak so comfortably of his son and niece never wearing their armour again, unless they are both dead and burnt?

That memorial will be held today, and the sky weeps.

Mito leans into his back, wrapping her arms around him. "He would be terribly annoyed at you dearest, for weeping so."

Hashirama sobs, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. "Oh yes. All these unreasonable and excessive displays of emotion, so unhelpful when I could be _doing_ something!" He chuckles wetly. "And Tōka would want me to watch over _her_ little brother, to make sure nobody bullies him or tries to force him into the field." Tokyōma is a disappointment in the eyes of the clan, nineteen and neither a warrior nor a medic; he is simply too squeamish for either. He tends the medics' herb-garden and makes various tinctures and salves for more mundane problems, but with Tōka no longer here to stand as their father's heir, his fragile cousin will be under greater pressure to 'properly' uphold the Senju name.

Or else have it stripped of him.

"Mito, dear heart, is Tokyōma interested in fuuinjutsu?"

His wife pauses. "Not that he has ever mentioned to me, beloved."

"Could you speak to him?" Hashirama asks, turning to take her into his arms. "Even if he is _not_ much taken with it, to attempt interest would reduce the pressure from my father for a while. And with a better grasp of kanji he could take over some of Tobirama's old duties." Few Senju are as scholarly as his brother is. Was. Until this happened Hashirama had been oblivious of quite how much his brother had taken on, but this at least is something that would benefit both Tokyōma and the clan.

His wife nods decisively. "A good plan. I will speak to him today."

Hashirama manages a smile, for all it feels false and strained. "I would truly be in terrible straits without you, dear heart."

His wife smiles at him, then draws back and straightens her spine. "It is good that you know that, beloved. Now go wash your face; it would not do to be late."

No, it would not. It would be disrespectful and Hashirama has disregarded his little brother enough in life already. Did Tobi know how much Hashirama loves him? How much he will be _missed_ , not for his strength or brilliance, but for himself? For that happy little hum on the rare occasions they eat fish, for the way he gets earnestly carried away in nonsensical debates intended to pass the time, for how he sighs but still lets Hashirama hug him?

Oh, but he feels like his insides have all been hollowed out, with how _much_ he misses his baby brother.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More butchered songs, but adapting folk-songs to suit your needs is practically a tradition in itself. Also, a reminder that I'm curently updating twice a week not just once, so make sure you haven't missed anything!

The next morning Tobirama wakes to rain on the roof of the Diplomatic Quarters and a chill in the air. Shivering, he reaches for the coat he hasn't worn since the first night in the building. Wearing Madara's clothing is one thing, but wearing a coat he _knows_ the Uchiha Heir has worn in battle, one neatly and subtly darned in places from Hashirama's attacks… it gives him uncomfortable thoughts, so he's done his best to not look at it at all after taking it off and setting it aside.

Fumbling at the ties with chilly fingers, Tobirama pauses to pull on the knitted tabi Izuna provided for everyday wear to protect his feet then heads out into the tatami room for better light. Tōka peers out at him from her blanket-cocoon, but doesn't try to move or speak; Tobirama heads back to his own futon, carries out his top blanket and throws it over his cousin.

"Thanks Tobi," she mumbles at him.

"I'll ask Izuna about a brazier," he promises; spring has been warm so far, but the weather was bound to turn sooner or later and it is likely to warm up then get cold again several times before summer finally arrives. "Or else fuuinjutsu if she doesn't trust us with something we could burn the building down with."

"I wouldn't trust _her_ with fire, so that's fair," his cousin mutters ruefully, shifting her shoulders a bit. "How early is it?"

Tobirama cautiously opens one of the shōji a crack to peer outside. "It's hard to tell," He admits, closing the paper door again quickly against the cold draft, "but after sunrise, at least."

"Not _too_ long until breakfast then," Tōka concedes. Her lips quirk. "Will Izuna be dressing you before or _after_ the meal? Because if it's before, I think I'd like to go back to sleep before she gets here."

Implying that breakfast would be _significantly_ delayed by him helping Izuna out of _her_ clothes to enjoy a naked interlude with him before letting her help him to dress. "We can have breakfast first," Tobirama says dryly, "and move you into the fusuma room afterwards, so we can make the most of the light." And also help Tōka keep warm since she can't really move around; the fusuma room _is_ warmer, if not by much. If her legs weren't broken he'd share the futon with her at night so they could both keep warm more easily, but that's really not an option with how easy it is to re-break healing bones. They both move around during the night, he markedly more than she; he's managed to wake up with his head at the foot of the futon with sheets all askew before now, and on one particularly memorable occasion at home, _under_ his raised bed.

Tobirama has offered Tōka the fusuma room before now, based on it being warmer, but until now she has preferred the airy lightness of the tatami room. If the weather does not lift then she probably _will_ want to sleep in the fusuma room with him tonight, if only for that tiny shred of extra warmth and greater protection from the wind. Both futons will use up all the available floor space, but it won't be his first time sharing a confined space with his cousin. At least there are only two of them imprisoned here; even one more person and it wouldn't be possible for them all to sit in separate rooms when they need a break. Not unless they were to use the well-sized but distinctly chilly stone room to sit in as well.

Tobirama opens his mouth again to ask if Tōka wants the lantern –he's sure there are a few hours' light left in it– when singing drifts in through the paper of the shōji:

"–father oh father I've found me a man, all alone in the lowly low-land; as handsome as ever in geta did stand, for a kiss in the morning early!"

The singing is replaced by equally cheerful and very complicated whistling, but Tobirama recognises that voice. He spent hours listening to it at the wedding party in increasing degrees of inebriation.

"So the father was thinking and thinking again, all alone in the lowly low-land, who might it be but some lord or some prince, that she met in the morning early? Who might it be but some merchant from town, all alone in the lowly low-land, a handsome young man that's worth millions of ryō, that she met in the morning early?"

The words are clearer now, as is the tone; so far the words are _not_ obscene, but he knows that means nothing. Tobirama fails to avoid meeting Tōka's eye as she levers herself up into a sitting position; she _smirks_ at him. Evidently Izuna does _not_ need to be drunk to sing love songs. He has a feeling that he will be hearing many _more_ such songs in the near future.

"So the father was thinking and pacing the land, all alone in the lowly low-land, when he spied the shoes in the heel of her hand, for it was in the morning early. 'Daughter oh daughter,' he started to shout, all alone in the lowly low-land; 'god knows it was none but that cobbling young lout that you met in the morning early!'"

Not actually obscene, but a song about a daughter picking a spouse _well_ below her father's expectations; well that is suitably shamelessly on the nose for Izuna. This whistling picks up again, bouncy and cheerful; Tobirama realises she must be fairly close now and heads for the front door as the singing restarts from what is probably the beginning of the song:

"It was early one morning the fair maid arose, all alone in the lowly low-land; out to the shoemaker's house sure she goes, for a kiss in the morning early! The cobbler he rose and he soon let her in, all alone in the lowly low-land; he had the will for to greet her so slim, with a kiss in the morning early!"

Well, _that_ part of the song does rather explain her choosing it for this morning; Tobirama leans over the genkan to open the front door inwards so his Lord-Wife can step inside, both her hands full.

Izuna smiles at him as she closes her umbrella and shakes it out beyond the threshold, then closes the door behind herself with her elbow and a kick. In geta today; suitable considering the rain, her white tabi, brightly coloured kimono and equally bright hakama, along with a more distinctly feminine hairstyle.

"Cobbler oh cobbler it's soon we'll be wed, all alone in the lowly low-land, so give me those shoes topped in silk all of red, for my kiss in the morning early!" she sings cheerfully as she sets the umbrella against the wall, leaning in for a kiss. Tobirama easily obliges her, daring to wrap his hands around her waist and half-lift her out of her geta and onto the wooden floor of the corridor for a better angle.

"Another of your songs?" He asks upon pulling back.

"One it's safe to sing at home, yes," she agrees a little wickedly. "The subtext _stays_ subtext."

Ah, so 'kiss' has _nuance_. Tobirama takes another moment to look her up and down. "You look very fine today," he says, because he does know enough about women to know that compliments are _required_ when an effort has been made to dress up. Also, it's true.

"I did promise to make an _effort_ , seeing as you would also be dressing up," Izuna replies, eyes bright and heated. Tobirama feels warmth squirm in his own gut in response, but remembers his promise to Tōka:

"Can we eat first, so then we can take our time?"

"Of course," Izuna agrees, gaze still hot and knowing as she places the bento in his hands and wraps his fingers around them. Tobirama leans in for another kiss –lingering slightly this time– then pulls back and tries to make sure she can see _all_ of his anticipation in his face. The flutter of her eyelashes suggests he has succeeded, so he smirks and turns his back to walk into the tatami room ahead of her.

* * *

Breakfast is once again mixed grain and vegetable porridge with various fresh yang-inducing greens mixed in and a fried fish draped over the top.

"Izuna-sama," Tōka asks cautiously after finishing her bowlful but before making inroads on her second helping of porridge, "is it really safe for you to be eating so many yang-promoting foods while trying to conceive?"

Izuna pauses, lowering her chopsticks. "Explain your reasoning to me please, Tōka-san?"

Tōka sets her bowl down entirely, balancing the chopsticks on the little dents in the rim intended for such a purpose. "I know that for my kinswomen with high chakra levels, carrying a child as far as the third month can be challenging," she says, tone neutral and careful, "and that our medics encourage women wishing to conceive to avoid foods high in yang, or that encourage yang energy production. In fact yang-leeching foods are often suggested."

Izuna nods. "That makes sense, considering your clan all share chakra that leans rather strongly yang. However Uchiha chakra leans more yin, so the medic overseeing my current health has prescribed yang-boosting foods to encourage my chances of conception." Her eyes drift to Tobirama. "However an attentive bed-partner with higher yang levels than my own dramatically reduces my chances of suffering a miscarriage even without that."

Tobirama knew already that an attentive lover could help reduce the chances of a pregnancy terminating early; it is half of his reasoning for keeping up the same level of sexual contact with Izuna even while she isn't fertile. That she is _already_ more likely to conceive than one of his kinswomen with similar overall chakra levels… that _is_ a relief. Hashirama and Mito have been married for over a year now but have still not managed to conceive a child together, and that is not an uncommon experience for either Senju or Uzumaki with such strong chakra.

It might be less than a month before his family learn of his continued imprisonment. That is not anywhere _near_ as long as he has feared when occasionally staring at the shadowed ceiling of the fusuma room in the dead of night, remembering that Izuna's baseline chakra level is easily on par with his own while Mito's is significantly lower than his brother's. A few weeks or months at _most_ until his clan are made aware of his continued wellbeing is vastly less despair-inducing a prospect than potentially having to wait several _years_.

Izuna finishes her breakfast, setting her bowl and chopsticks back in one of the bento boxes. "Tobirama, would you like the rest?"

Tobirama looks at the scraping of vegetables and grains remaining in the box. "No, thank you," he decides. "Tōka mentioned wanting to stay in the fusuma room today; it's rather cold and it's warmer in there."

Izuna nods, accepting his empty bowl and stacking it with her own. "I'll see about sorting out something better than blankets for both of you; it probably won't be ready for a few days though."

"We will manage until then," Tobirama assures her. "But another lantern would be appreciated, given the dimness."

"I will bring one around after dinner," Izuna promises as Tōka finishes her seconds and hands her bowl over. "Tōka-san, will you be needing any additional assistance in the coming days?"

Tōka pauses. "It would not be unwelcome," she admits slowly, as though the words are being pulled out of her. Tobirama opens his mouth to ask why, does some quick mental mathematics and quickly closes his teeth again. Yes, that _is_ something that becomes increasingly likely with every passing day and that Tōka would sooner stab him than allow him to help her with.

"Our better medics have an experimental treatment that could prevent it entirely, for this month at least," Izuna offers carefully, "but that can only safely be done _once_ every few months."

"In a month's time I will hopefully be at least _somewhat_ mobile, Izuna-sama," Tōka says flatly, "and in the meantime such a thing would be very _much_ appreciated."

"I will talk to the relevant medics about arranging a consultation then," Izuna says calmly, neatly packing up the remains of the meal. "Tōka-san, your cousin mentioned you wished to stay in the fusuma room today?"

"Yes please," Tōka agrees easily. "Tobirama says it's a little warmer in there."

Izuna nods as Tobirama gets up to open the fusuma panels and roll up his futon, wrestling the bedding away to one end of the room and picking up the package of clothing to take back out into the tatami room.

* * *

Once his cousin is warmly ensconced with a freshly-charged lantern, all the blankets and her borrowed novels, and the fusuma are once more closed, Tobirama finds himself alone with Izuna and his new clothing.

He is abruptly and acutely aware that all he is wearing under the borrowed Uchiha coat is his sleeping yukata. It is… less awkward than it probably _should_ be. In fact, it feels… _he_ feels…

"I should wash," he says thoughtfully, "before putting on my fine new clothes." He tilts his head down and eyes Izuna through his lashes. "Would you heat up some water for me, Lord-Wife?"

"I would be delighted to offer my concubine my assistance in this matter," Izuna agrees a little huskily, the darkness of her pupils overtaking more of the almost-black of her irises. Tobirama smiles, half in gratitude but half at the reaction he has elicited. That is _very_ flattering. Also startlingly empowering; is _this_ why tea-house women and prostitutes flirt so outrageously?

Testing this, he turns to walk down the hall, letting himself slip casually out of the measured pace his father drilled into him and into the swaying leopard strut that is most effective for stalking prey; the gait that various clansmen have _repeatedly_ told him makes him sway like an oiran. He has always pointedly ignored those comments, but _now…_

The faint indrawn breath behind him is the sound of sweet victory. Tobirama smirks evilly, taking care not to change his casual amble as he turns into the stone room and starts unfastening the borrowed coat, letting it slide back off his shoulders at the entrance to the washroom as Izuna arrives in the doorway behind him. Half-turning to watch her walk closer, Tobirama feels _very_ smug about the thread of a very different kind of heat now winding through her chakra. The heat in his own blood rises slowly to match, coaxed forwards by the giddy sense of power and Izuna's easy reaction to his teasing.

"Would my Lord-Wife be so kind as to run my bath for me?" He asks, knowing he is being _blatantly_ coy and enjoying every second of it.

Izuna steps within arms' reach. "One day," she says mildly, "I _will_ get you into a proper bath house with me."

Tobirama smirks. "I look forward to it." He doesn't move as Izuna pulls the washroom curtain back, steps up into the small room, slides the plug into the bottom of the deep sink and then flicks open the spigot that presumably leads to a tank outside. Izuna assured him on the first day that the water was safe to drink and he and Tōka have had no difficulties, but he is still curious as to where the running water is coming from.

It's certainly _not_ the river.

As the water level in the sink rises Izuna ties back her sleeves with tasuki produced from _nowhere,_ leans forwards and places her hands in the no doubt very cold water, which presently begins to steam ever so slightly. Tobirama turns to lean against the left-hand side of the doorway, which gives him a very nice view of the curve of Izuna's behind through her hakama while also ensuring Izuna can _see_ him looking at her ass.

"Aren't you worried about getting water on that lovely outfit?" He asks flirtatiously. "Maybe you should take it off."

"Izuna glances at him, an instant of fulminating eye-contact. "Is my concubine offering to help me undress?"

Tobirama takes another leisurely look at her, half-bent over the now mostly-full sink in gloriously coloured and brocaded silks, and lets her see the mischief he is plotting as cover to the increasingly insistent burn in his bones and brain. "Maybe," he says coyly. "After I've bathed."

Izuna hisses quietly through her teeth as she lifts her hands out of the water and turns off the spigot, drying her hands on the small flannel hanging nearby. "Do you know you're a _wicked_ tease, Treasure?"

Tobirama hopes he managed to keep most of his startlement in the face of that pet-name on the inside. "It's been mentioned before," he replies blandly. Although admittedly it has never been in _this_ context until today.

Izuna hums, dipping her chin and peeking at him mischievously through her own lashes. "So long as you _do_ know." She steps past him out of the washroom, so close the silk of her sleeves glides along his forearms, making his skin prickle. "Anything else I can do for my concubine?"

Tobirama grins at her over his shoulder as he unfastens the top of his sleeping yukata and lets the collar fall back to pool around his waist, exposing his entire upper back to her gaze. "If my Lord-Wife would fetch my towel; I believe I may have left it in the fusuma room."

Izuna stares at him for a long moment, but as he begins to wonder if he may have overreached she chuckles and shakes her head. "I was warned," she mutters, likely to herself, before turning and walking out of the stone room, closing the shōji firmly behind her.

Tobirama steps into the washroom, fully closing the curtain across the doorway before stripping entirely naked to enjoy the hot water and use the bar of herbal soap sitting on one side. His hair is at that awkward length where it gets in his eyes yet isn't _quite_ long enough to tie back and is likely to stay there for several months more, and Izuna isn't going to offer him hairpins _or_ a blade any time soon so he will just have to cope. Tōka would definitely appreciate hairpins or at least a silk ribbon, but has had to settle with a cotton tie pulled out of one of the various much-mended layers she's wearing.

There is a deliberate knock on the wall beside the curtained-off doorway, as though Tobirama can't feel that Izuna has returned. It is at least polite of her to announce herself.

"I haven't finished yet," he says aloud, just to see if she'll pull the curtain back to watch him. This game of teasing is _shockingly_ fun and right now he wants to draw it out as long as possible, for all that part of him would very much like to end it immediately and move onto the main event.

She doesn't intrude. Interesting; she certainly would _like_ to. Part of him is disappointed; he mentally steps on it _hard_ before going back to rinsing his legs, doing his best not to jar his wrists in the process.

There's a rather pointed sigh, then Izuna hums a few notes. Then a little riff as the sound of a steadily tapping foot joins the swirl of notes with an odd irregular double beat.

"I've got two pale hands up against the shōji frame, I'm shaking with the heat of my need again–"

Tobirama fumbles the soap as he realises in mild horror that Izuna does not _need_ to be drunk to serenade him with _absolutely shameless singing_. She can be _sober_ to do so; he abruptly sees that this could well be the source of her reputation, if Izuna _is_ actually this shameless in public on a regular basis.

"–Starts in my feet, reverbs up to my brain; there's nothing I can do to reverse the gain. I'm looking out to the street below; there's nothing in the way they move to show, that they too, know what I know, that they too hunger for the beats below." Her voice is shockingly steady despite the swaying beat and the words being sung.

"Listening to a street player I feel so out of place, there's a certain something missing as the notes descend and race; I know you can tell just by looking at my face; a word about my weakness: I'm addicted to your heartbeat base. I'm addicted to your heartbeat base."

Tobirama _cannot_ stand here _stark naked_ and listen to this. He _can't_. Not when he can _feel_ her chakra and knows she _means_ _every word_ , knows that she is as ensnared to the pounding of his heart under his skin as he is to hers. He knows this is lust –far more bewitching and perilous to his equilibrium than the genjutsu she used that first afternoon– but right now he _does not care_. Izuna is outside the washroom, fully dressed in beautiful silks that she put on for _him,_ and she is singing _utterly unashamedly_ about how she _desperately_ wants to feel his heart beating under her hands and against her naked skin.

"There's nothing I can do to play cool; I don't sleep until I've had my fuel; I feel strange if I'm deprived; I hunger for that beat from deep inside–"

Tobirama grips the edge of the sink and dunks his head under the hot water; it does not help at _all_.

"–feel like I'm killing time, imprisoned by dependence to a rhythm sublime–"

"Izuna." He yanks back the curtain and the singing stops abruptly.

"I'd like that towel, please," Tobirama says roughly, knowing she can see _exactly_ how aroused he is right now and not caring in the slightest. She was the one who started _singing at him_.

Izuna hands it over wordlessly. Tobirama roughly scrubs his head, runs the absorbent material over his arms and hands then wraps it around his waist, not caring that his chest and back are still covered in warm water droplets.

"Will my Lord-Wife undress for me?" He asks, because asking is important.

"Yes." Izuna's hands reach for her hakama ties; Tobirama realises she's _still swaying to that beat_ even though she's stopped singing the words and has to bite his lower lip to keep himself from stepping into arms' reach and start undressing her himself.

Izuna notices; of course she does. "Would my concubine enjoy undressing me?" She asks lightly, toying with the half-undone hakama ties.

Tobirama swallows through his abruptly-dry throat. "I would enjoy it very much," he admits before he can convince himself that it might be a bad idea to let her know that right now there's not _much_ he wouldn't give for the chance to lick sex-scented sweat off her throat as she _whimpers_ under him.

Izuna lets the loose hakama ties drop and spreads her arms wide. "Then please, indulge yourself," she invites, eyes dark and achingly hot.

Tobirama has _every intention_ of indulging himself, just as soon as he's peeled all those shockingly expensive silk layers off her body and draped them somewhere they won't get wet or damaged while he's making her forget every word she knows except his name.

His teeth _ache_ with how much he wants to taste her right now.

* * *

The deep sink is old, well-anchored and extremely sturdy, being carved from a single block of stone embedded in the floor; Izuna can sit _on_ it for the second round of bathing, both of them crammed in the tiny washroom together and sharing the flannel. She takes particular care of his wrists, now stained purplish-black and making each twitch of his fingers mildly uncomfortable; Tobirama in turn is careful of the deeply-indented bite-mark now decorating the tendons on the left side of her neck. He did not break the skin, but the bruising there is also likely to be fairly impressive.

Then again, failing to break the skin was through no virtue on his own but Izuna reinforcing the area slightly. He certainly bit down hard enough once certain of her chakra under his teeth.

Izuna briefly catches his wrists again. "I would like the medic coming to examine Tōka-san to do something about these," she said softly, "but if you would prefer not to be touched like that, I will accept your choice."

Tobirama thinks it over as he runs the hot flannel over her thighs. On the one hand, an offer of chakra healing; on the other, placing his life in the hands of an Uchiha and having to trust that they care more for their own life, comfort and family than for revenge.

"Is there a specific medic you are thinking of?" He asks, dipping the flannel back in the hot water then handing it to her and turning around so she can wash his back. The close quarters make the gymnastics of elbows awkward for attending to such things himself.

"Hikaku-kun's wife is our chief medic," Izuna says, leaning forwards to scrub him from neck to thigh. "She is very capable indeed in treating bruising and soft tissue damage."

Tobirama tried to put 'head medic' and 'soft tissue damage' in the same box and fails completely. Never mind that if married to the Deathblow she is likely younger than Izuna is. "Surely somebody more experienced in surgery and complex injuries should be head medic?" Unless her leadership is for political reasons; he is fairly sure Hikaku is highly placed within the Uchiha hierarchy based on his elaborate armour, and the unique knack he has for breaking everything and anything with a single well-placed blow does rather support the theory.

Izuna sighs, tugging lightly on his shoulder so he turns back to face her. "Tobirama, the Uchiha do not have healers such as the Senju evidently do," she says, exhaustion and sorrow abruptly overflowing from her chakra as the skin around her eyes tightens, making the tattoo flex. "Medics are trained primarily in herblore, sutures and physical surgery with fine blades, not whatever it is your clan can do that a warrior will be walking again in six months following a shattered vertebra and damaged spinal column. Yori-san is our clan's most skilled and advanced medical specialist in the matter of chakra healing, and she has a dozen apprentices doing all they can to learn from her and expand their own understanding further. But it is a new field for us, less than five years old."

Tobirama tries to recalculate what likely battlefield losses for the Senju would look like under those limitations and feels something in his soul wail in horror. That would _destroy_ their clan within a decade. But the Uchiha have been operating under these limitations for… how long now?

How large _is_ the Uchiha clan? To his senses their compound has always been an undifferentiated morass of fire, bird down and a confusing tangle of aromatics worthy of a capital city temple complex, but given the overall _size_ of the compound –not so different from the Senju's– he had assumed overall population was comparable. Their warrior forces do roughly equal the Senju in the field.

But if they are having to _replace_ warriors more regularly than the Senju do…

"How many Uchiha clansmen are there?" He doesn't know if the Uchiha have vassals like the Senju do; there's _mention_ of 'proper and respectful treatment of tenants, sworn vassals, serfs and indentured slaves' in their laws, but everybody he's seen wandering past the Diplomatic Quarters has been manifestly Uchiha in appearance and dress, complete with their fan mon on the back of even the smallest children's coats.

Izuna hums pensively as she hops off the sink so he can wash her back as well. "At present? About… seven hundred souls, I believe; roughly two-thirds older than twenty and the rest younger."

The Senju number maybe two hundred and thirty at _best_ plus vassals, who if counted bring the numbers up over three hundred and fifty if you include the infants and elderly. Tobirama rather wants to scream, but can't afford to right now.

"Why do you field so few then?" He asks instead. He's fairly sure there's no more than two hundred Uchiha in the field when the entire clan goes on campaign; probably more in the vicinity of a hundred and seventy-five.

Izuna snorts, turning to prop a foot up on the sink edge and taking the flannel from him to clean between her toes. "Who would make our armour then? Or our weapons? Who would clothe us and feed us and produce the other goods we sell so that we are not entirely dependent on greedy merchants and petty lordlings for money and rice? Who would raise our children and teach them to read and write? Who would care for the sick or the orphaned, who would patrol the clan lands against incursions and tend to the woodlands? Who would keep our houses in good condition? The Uchiha haven't had vassals in several centuries; the feud scared them all off."

That still puts the Uchiha's warrior population as being outnumbered almost _five to one_ by those who do not fight. Even if two of those five are younger than twenty –and one in five is likely younger than ten– that is still a lot of people.

So many more mouths to feed and bodies to clothe, yet Izuna can afford to lavish him with silks on a whim? Tobirama wishes he could see her clan's account books and discover how much money is saved making their own armour and weapons when on the other side of the books are the costs of iron sand, charcoal and many different smiths' worth of expertise.

"Shall we dress then?" Izuna asks, drawing him out of his thoughts. "I brought a teapot, tea leaves and some games; it is always more fun being dressed for indoors when you have things to do with the time."

So thoughtful; Tobirama abruptly _yearns_ for tea. It's been two and a half weeks since he had any and while he's not given the lack much thought, he _has_ missed it.

"Tea would be greatly appreciated," he admits. "Will you dress yourself first, or me, or shall we take turns assisting one-another?"

"Take turns, I think," Izuna decides. "Tabi first, so our feet don't get cold, and then building up the layers as we go."

Tobirama knows already that he has rather more layers than Izuna to put on, although he feels much less self-conscious about his new kimono's evident costliness when compared to what Izuna showed up wearing today. _That_ kimono is _vastly_ more expensive, just from how it is dyed and woven, and he's fairly sure some of that detailing is actual gold leaf. Never mind the hakama; who makes _hakama_ from costly coral pink silk?

* * *

Being dressed by Izuna and dressing her in return is… interesting. Not at all sexual, but still with an edge that provokes an unidentifiable _something_ in the pit of his gut. Tobirama learns in the process that Izuna _definitely_ has fuuinjutsu in the little bag she had hanging off her wrist when she arrived, as she produces more soft sashes for tying their various layers in place from it, along with a range of clips for temporarily securing things in place, her own pair of house slippers –printed with tiny white cranes in flight on scarlet ground– and a bone comb with the tines smoothed down from age and use.

By the end however Tobirama feels very pleased by how pristine Izuna looks and agrees to let her show him how _he_ looks with a genjutsu, which strikes him momentarily dumb because he doesn't look like himself at _all_. Or at least, not like the self he is used to seeing.

"My hair is a mess," he says, trying to buy himself more time to process that yes, that is _him_ in all that expensive finery, looking like a silk merchant's firstborn showing off his father's wares in the capital city, or else a nobleman's younger son casually wearing at home what most families could not hope to buy in a _lifetime_.

Izuna eyes his hair critically as the genjutsu disintegrates. "Let's move to the tatami room so I can heat the pot for tea," she says, "and afterwards I'll see what I can do for your hair, if you like."

Tobirama doesn't believe for a moment she will succeed –he wears his hair short because all attempts at keeping it in order when longer have proved time-consuming, frustrating and occasionally painful– but he's willing to let her try. He will be provided with tea; that by itself is more than worth allowing somebody free range over his scalp with a comb. Who knows, if Izuna finds the experience suitably futile he might be allowed to have a haircut.

Although as that would mean allowing an Uchiha within finger-breadths of his throat with a blade… perhaps not. Accepting longer hair might give him access to hairpins though, and Tōka would appreciate that very much.

Once in the tatami room Izuna produces floor cushions out of her little bag, sets out an iron tripod and teapot and then eyes the flimsy table dubiously.

"No, I don't think it'll take the weight either," Tobirama agrees; he hasn't examined the table in any detail, but it could easily have woodworm as well as being light and not very well made.

"The floor it is then," Izuna say, kneeling and laying out regular guest cups with a hand-painted bamboo pattern for them both, then filling the iron teapot with water from a gourd. Tobirama also kneels as she sets out a miniature tea tin, then puts the gourd away and takes the teapot in both her hands, channelling chakra as she does so.

Tobirama picks up the little tea caddy to mask his unease –it is one thing for her to be warming a stone sink full of wash-water to just above blood temperature, quite another for her to bring a small iron kettle almost to boiling– and opens it to sniff the tea; not really appropriate behaviour for a guest, but he's not a _guest_. He is a spouse, even if not Izuna's equal in domestic matters, so has free range with the items brought into his spouse's home. Well, _his_ 'home' in this case.

The tea is a very fine sencha, moist and sweet. He's dealt with merchants transporting this on missions –most memorably on a mission a good number of years ago when Madara robbed the tea caravans _blind_ right under his kinsmen's _noses_ – and knows this is the most expensive kind; it might even be from this years' first picking, a shincha, which… should be happening about now, in Tea Country at least? He can't quite bring the exact dates to mind.

Izuna sets the pot on the tripod and turns towards him. "Tobirama, can you pass me the tea?"

Tobirama sets the open tin down on the tatami in front of her; she smiles and picks it up, neatly spooning a portion into the pot and setting the lid in place. "There; a few minutes until it is brewed."

Sitting here with Izuna, having just dressed each-other in layers of silk and now waiting to drink tea together, feels almost unbearably domestic. Having informal tea as an event in itself rather than simply a necessary accompaniment to paperwork or independent study is something he has done only rarely, generally with Tōka, Mito-san or one of his aunts, at the height of summer when missions slow down and so does Uchiha hostility, so he can afford to spend a day cleaning his small home and then another day simply enjoying the cleanliness.

He so rarely had the time for such things, so he cherishes them. And yet, it has now been two and a half weeks since the Uchiha and Senju last clashed on the battlefield. He hopes there have been no clashes on missions either, but even if not –his heart aches for an instant– that is still a long time. Usually a _week_ cannot go past without him running out to face off against Izuna at least once, unless it is the depths of winter with snow on the ground or the height of summer when it is almost too hot to move.

"Have you had any new thoughts on what to do once Tōka's legs are better?" He asks. Time is passing and his cousin could start working towards regaining her mobility in the next month.

Izuna settles her hands on her knees. "Many thoughts, few conclusions," she admits candidly. "If I am pregnant at that point it will be _easier_ as my father will not want to upset me too much by pressing the matter, I hope, but I would prefer to come up with something _useful_ she can contribute to the clan before it gets to that point."

"What is classified as useful?" Tobirama would have assumed intelligence, except that in the two weeks since their capture his father has _surely_ effected many changes to safeguard against such and Uchiha Tajima will know that, being no fool.

Izuna tilts her head. "A craft, if she has one? Or the willingness to learn one. Something she can do with her hands, so not dependent on her mobility, and nothing to do with chakra or combat. Can she spin? There is always use for thread."

All those useful womanly arts that Tōka has spent a lifetime determinedly scorning; oh dear. "My cousin has always been a warrior first and foremost."

Izuna accepts that with good grace. "If she wishes to pass her time with a craft, something could be arranged," she says mildly. "As may you, although entry-level crafts with minimal blade-handling are limited to spinning, weaving and basket-weaving."

"I am still exploring the books you left me," Tobirama concedes, "but as time passes I might choose to revisit that offer, if it will remain open." Yes, he does enjoy reading, but he also enjoys _creating_ and not even being allowed to _write notes_ means he feels rather dispiritingly unproductive right now.

"It will remain so." Izuna pauses. "Does Tōka-san play an instrument?"

That is actually a decently good idea; music is perhaps not his cousin's favourite pastime, but it would while away a few hours every other day and she does get _something_ out of it so long as her audience is not the highly critical great-aunt who taught her to play his mother's kokyū. Tobirama appreciates that she'd gone to the effort of learning at all; he'd never had the time to do so and if she hadn't insisted, the instrument would have been sold. It may yet be sold, now that not even Tōka is there to use it and the loss of two highly capable warriors has reduced the clan's mission capacity.

"The kokyū; I do not think she would refuse if one were found," he admits softly.

"And yourself?"

Tobirama tilts his head slightly. "I am not terrible with a dragon flute, but not particularly musical." He dislikes learning tunes –first he gets them wrong, then they swiftly become tedious– but he knows he is tuneful and it is nice to play and let his mind wander sometimes.

Izuna amazingly lets that lie, nodding and reaching over to pick up the pot and pour the tea instead. Tobirama suspects he may end up being given a flute regardless, but at least Izuna is not trying to push musical notation on him. The only thing he got out of those lessons as a child was new and interesting code ideas.

The tea is exceedingly pleasant.

"Might we drink tea again soon?" He asks once they have finished the pot in between talking about the finer points of court etiquette as applicable to Tobirama as a concubine to an Uchiha Lineage Head and 'General'.

"Daily, if my concubine wishes it," Izuna says instantly. "Although," she smiles ruefully, "not always with the shincha. I do not have much of it and would like it to last the month at least."

Tobirama can find no fault in that at all; drinking sencha is a delicate treat in itself over his usual genmaicha, lengthened with toasted rice so it lasts longer and a lower grade of leaf besides.

"What else would my concubine like to do this morning?"

Tobirama takes a moment, the rain still dancing on the roof overhead; it will likely remain steady all day, to have done so for so long already. She did offer both games and hair care earlier, but… "Do you know some story-songs? Ones that are _not_ obscene?" Izuna clearly enjoys music far more than was previously apparent, and giving her the opportunity to indulge herself will make her more likely to indulge him later. And she is very likely to sing him something unfamiliar, which would be something to talk about afterwards.

Sure enough, Izuna smiles at him. "I know a fair few," she agrees, "including various Uchiha historic ones. Would you like one of those?"

"Very much."

Izuna shifts in her seiza slightly. "Then I shall sing you the first song of our clan; attend, my concubine, to the tale of Indra of the Fan."

Tobirama gives her his full attention as she begins to sing; this is going to be _intensely_ interesting.


	7. Chapter 7

By lunch Izuna has made another pot of tea with the leaves and coaxed him into letting her comb his hair. Mellowed and warmed by two cups of excellent tea and a very interesting discussion on the various nuances of the imperial court included in the song of Uchiwa no Indra, Tobirama submitted with grace to her attentions.

Her careful fingers in his hair as she knelt up in front of him, putting his eyes on level with her throat and kimono collar, and the gentle scrape of the comb against his scalp were surprisingly soothing. When had somebody last taken such time and care in grooming him? Tobirama can't remember anybody except his mother ever doing more than scolding him for the inevitable mess his hair made in the mornings, thicker and vastly more inclined to tangle than his brothers' or cousins' hair.

"Your poor hair," Izuna murmurs eventually as Tobirama is doing his best not to let his eyes drift shut. "Do you just wash it with soap?"

"Of course." It's short enough that there's no real point in doing otherwise and it's quicker than fiddling around with other things; not that the clan's various hair products have ever done anything to tame his thicket of spikes. He's tried some of them, generally at various relatives' insistence, but it has stubbornly remained an uncooperative mess so he now resorts to keeping it too short to truly tangle. A length which it surpassed at some point last week, hence his current difficulties.

"If I asked you to stop and brought you something else to use, would you humour me in doing so?"

Tobirama tilts his head up to meet her eyes. "What would be required exactly?" He asks warily. He does not care to waste hours on an extensive hair-care routine. Yes, it is true he has no shortage of leisure time but that doesn't mean he wants to lose hours on a lost cause; some of those previously offered hair-care products somehow made the tangling worse, or transformed his head into an oily mess that attracted so much dirt and dust that he could be mistaken for a brown-haired cousin. Yes, the oil _had_ worked to smooth it out and keep it from tangling, but washing it –and all the accumulated dirt– out every night was a trial and had driven him to vastly improve his control of water chakra, so as to do so the moment he was out of reach of that particular well-meaning aunt.

"You agree to wash your hair only once weekly with a salve I will provide, and either comb it carefully until smooth both before bed and in the mornings or else allow me to do so."

Tobirama thinks about it. "What do I get out of this?" It is no great imposition, but if she is open to bargaining…

Izuna chuckles as she tucks the comb back into her bag. "Well I have already promised regular tea, so cannot use that to bargain with," she muses ruefully, "so what would it please my concubine to receive? A better table? A plant? A hanging scroll?"

"My Lord-Wife is asking me for something I will have put time and care into indefinitely," Tobirama counters, daring to pout slightly. "Surely that is worth more than mere room furnishings?"

"Ah, so my concubine desires a truly _expensive_ outfit," Izuna says laughingly, eyes bright. "Finery to be worn when visiting fellow members of the nobility at my side, to show off the regard in which they are held so that not even the daimyo's wife will dare to dismiss them." She smirks at him. "A gift truly _worthy_ of you will take time, my treasure; would you allow me a month to procure such? I promise to still buy you other things when required to abandon you overnight."

Tobirama genuinely had not had anything particular in mind, but he is hardly about to refuse Izuna if she _wants_ to layer him in more obscenely costly silk. There isn't exactly anything _else_ he can ask for that he actually wants, and mostly he was asking to see what she would offer. He is not entirely sure what she would consider to fall under 'truly expensive' when she has already lavished the fish-painted kimono on him, but now she has made the suggestion he is genuinely interested in finding out.

At least if she is spending clan money on expensive kimono and visiting seamstresses in every free moment she won't be shedding his family's blood in battle. "A hanging scroll or something else to go in the tokonoma would not go amiss," he adds reluctantly. It is not much of a tokonoma –barely wider than his forearm with a single low shelf, set beside the door leading to the hall, only just large enough for a scroll or a vase but not both– but Tōka will appreciate having something other than paper doors and plain wood to stare at.

Izuna leans in and kisses his forehead; Tobirama stiffens in sheer surprise. "Who am I to deny my concubine a little more colour in his life?" She teases gently as she pulls back again. "Would you check the front door? Saburō-kun should be arriving soon with lunch, so I should clear away the tea things and ensure Tōka-san is ready for the meal."

Tobirama nods and rises carefully to his feet; moving in a kimono is confining, but more practice will refamiliarise him with the limitations imposed. "I will happily make adjustments to my daily routine from today, as my Lord-Wife has proven repeatedly that they are a warrior of their word," he decides.

Izuna's brilliantly delighted smile gives him a warm fluttering feeling in his stomach that lasts _well_ beyond leaving the room to wait in the hallway for Saburō to knock at the front door.

* * *

The afternoon passes surprisingly quickly; Izuna brought playing cards, dice and several games of a type Tobirama has never seen before, drawn on scrolls or folded paper and played with dice, shōgi-like pieces and occasionally a designated set of cards. Tōka gets very into the 'who killed Kokushoko-sama' game, which features a large and clever game board showing the floor-plan of a nobleman's mansion and a wide range of both suspects and murder weapons. It's quite clearly a game that's more fun with more players, and there're enough board tokens for eight people to play at once.

Seeing as all the cards of suspects, locations and murder weapons are shared out equally between the players, it's _not_ a game that two people could play for very long. However with three it works well enough and for four or more would get extremely interesting very quickly; to do well you need a good memory and a degree of luck, and while Tobirama has never been particularly lucky his memory is excellent.

Eight players all at once could easily get very rowdy, but Tobirama can see how this game can be played again and again with no loss of enjoyment, purely due to the element of chance involved in selecting the 'murderer' and the limitations in place for determining which cards have been hidden.

Izuna eventually leaves in the middle of the afternoon, citing the need to prepare and install the promised wardrobe so that Tobirama has appropriate storage for his new clothing, as well as to acquire a hair salve and a better comb for the agreed change to his grooming routine.

After she leaves Tobirama sits back down on one of the cushions –which were very thoughtfully left behind– with the guide to Iron. A lot of the things Izuna had explained about the story of Indra had clarified various oddities he'd been struggling with when reading about the samurai clans, so he wants to re-read the guide while those details are still fresh in his mind.

Tōka, well wrapped-up and idly shuffling the pack of hanafuda cards Izuna had left behind, looks up once all that can be heard is once more the sound of rain. "So what did you use your sexual wiles to extort out of her this time?"

Tobirama rolls his eyes. "We're getting either a scroll or a vase for the tokonoma," he says flatly, turning his attention back to the text in his hands.

"That's all? Losing your touch there Tobi; I think she won this round."

He hopes Izuna _does_ find a kokyū for Tōka; maybe then she will not spend so much time poking at him over the whole concubine business. It's probably a vain hope; she is more likely to add musical accompaniment for emphasis. "It's not about _winning_ , it's about working out what she's willing to let me get away with and keeping her sweet enough that she's prepared to leave any of our clansmen she runs across _alive_."

"Well she's certainly _very_ sweet today."

Tobirama glances up from his reading. "I got tea," he informs her smugly. "Shincha."

"You lucky _shit_." Tōka huffs, performing a trick shuffle. "I want tea."

"I secured _daily_ tea," Tobirama adds, dropping his eyes back to the page.

"I think I hate you, little cousin." A pause. "But daily tea? That means heating water. Maybe she'll get tired of using chakra and leave a brazier here after a few weeks of that."

Possible, but fairly unlikely; Tobirama suspects Izuna is more likely to resort to fuuinjutsu.

"So cushions, daily tea, something decorative for the tatami room _and_ a new song? Not a bad haul for your oh-so _-vigorous_ efforts, little cousin."

Tobirama stiffens at the mention of the earlier song.

"It was _very_ catchy." Tōka hums a dispiritingly familiar little riff. "Do you think she made it up on the spot like your other one or has been working on it for a while?"

Tobirama does _not_ lift his eyes from the page he is reading; re-reading. He turns the page, grateful for his shaggy hair; it hides the fact that his ears have likely gone bright red. Izuna singing that _at_ him was bad enough, but thinking about her _composing_ it, possibly while sitting in a bathing pool or getting undressed for bed…

He tries to set the thought aside and focus on the book, but Tōka is now half-singing the song, pausing every now and then to try out different phrases and work out the words that were evidently half-muffled by the stone and fusuma panels. He can't sit through another hour of this; Tobirama rises abruptly, walks into the fusuma room with carefully measured steps so as not to loosen his kimono, slides Madara's coat over his outfit –taking extra care with his sleeves so they don't get trapped or creased in the narrower coat cuffs– and fastens up the front.

Then he lets himself out of the shōji; he can read on the engawa for a bit, seeing as there's no wind to blow the rain under the eaves.

Tōka's quiet laughter briefly follows him and she then continues singing, but even just a paper door between them is better than nothing when his cousin insists on being like this.

* * *

He has no idea how she did it beyond it evidently involving fuuinjutsu, but there is now a wide four-drawered tansu embedded in the floor and wall of the stone room, waist-high with more than enough room inside it for many times more clothing, blankets and spare sheets than he and Tōka have between them. Izuna also brought a stoneware jar of hair salve and explained its use to him –put the salve in his hair once a week after rinsing it, let it sit while he washes the rest of himself, then rinse it out again– and a wider-toothed comb than the wooden one already in the Diplomatic Quarters, made of a darker, heavier wood with more rounded tines.

Izuna mentions while helping him move his clothes that Yori-san the medic had agreed to come over tomorrow to examine Tōka, so Tobirama makes the decision he has been mulling over:

"I would like Yori-san to look at my wrists, if she is willing."

Izuna smiles. "I will ask her." She pauses. "If you wash your hair with the salve before breakfast tomorrow, I will dry and comb your hair for you after the meal."

Tobirama considers this. He is already being extensively bribed to do anything with his hair at all, but if Izuna wants to not only bribe him but also do most of the work…

"And this evening?" He asks.

Her eyes crinkle. "I will happily comb my concubine's hair on every morning and evening I am free to do so."

That is easily three-quarters of the total mornings and evenings in the week, although if she starts taking missions lasting several days then that will cut into the time significantly. "Then on those mornings and evenings when you are free, I will let you comb my hair." Tobirama pauses. "But how _did_ you embed the tansu in the floor?"

Izuna considers him thoughtfully. "You mean the theory?"

"Yes. Please." She will never reveal the fuuinjutsu details to him, but what _inspired_ her, the _process_ … that is what actually interests him.

"Have you ever visited a volcano? Either one of the active ones in Water Country or the various sleepers in southern Fire and the Wind-Earth border nations? I think Lightning's eastern coast has active ones too."

"Sleepers?"

Izuna grins sharply. "Who am I to declare a mountain dead when the land around it still rumbles occasionally as though shifting in its sleep?"

That is a _profoundly_ disquieting thought, but Izuna has asked him a question. "I have crossed the valleys between Earth and Wind many times and walked among the cratered hills there, and seen the ash-mountains of eastern Lightning." The Senju don't go into Water much; that is where their sister-clan the Uzumaki have primacy.

"So you have seen the plateaus of poured stone?" Izuna says eagerly, hands tracing a rippling movement, "where little grows and the stone puddles like spilled wax? I thought that, seeing as stone can clearly flow, I could persuade the stone wall and floor here to temporarily do likewise."

Which she has evidently achieved without serious mishap, seeing as he has not heard any particular explosions around the Uchiha compound since arriving here. Well, there _were_ a couple of sudden bangs last week, but they sounded more like firecrackers or the other pyrotechnics certain Uchiha employ in the field than fuuinjutsu accidents.

"Thank you for explaining," he says, already trying to work out in his mind _how_ stone could be made to flow without adding heat. Those earth jutsu he is aware of can both make earth flow and compact it into stone, but he's never seen a jutsu to make _stone_ flow. Izuna may not realise it, but the stone flowing from Lightning's ash-mountains is invariably hot enough to burn a man away to nothing in seconds; but to make _cold_ stone flow…

"May I comb your hair now?"

Tobirama blinks; Izuna is watching him patiently, a hint of smile lurking in the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, you may." Tobirama then remembers he's still wearing the coat. "Please help me take this off first?" It was just the thing when sitting outside, but if he's going to be in the tatami room –seeing as he and Tōka have eaten dinner and his cousin is sharing the fusuma room with him tonight– then he doesn't need it. Also, his kimono sleeves should have some time to air out a bit after his having to squash them under the coat.

"Of course." Izuna quickly helps him with the hidden fasteners, but then rather than helping him ease his arms out moves behind him and pulls the coat off him inside-out in seconds. Is that how it's _supposed_ to be taken off then? Tobirama turns to ask.

The coat in Izuna's hands looks _nothing_ like he was expecting it to. Tobirama _stares_.

"You didn't notice the lining?"

"No," Tobirama says absently, eyes roving over the stunningly intricate figured patchwork now revealed. He was already aware the lining of the coat was silk –nothing else is that smooth– but the numerous seams and edges felt against his wrists when putting his arms in the sleeves had made him assume the inner was no less heavily patched and darned than the outer. Which is _not_ what he is seeing.

Across the lower half of all four panels of the open coat Susano-o wrestles with the Yamata-no-Orochi, stormclouds and foam-topped waves lit with lightning in the sleeves, more clouds across the upper chest contrasting the clear skies over the back, which reveal Amaterasu in all her glory set against all the colours of the dawn and the moon peeking out just in front of the left shoulder seam. All made of cleverly-pieced-together silk shapes and delicately embroidered with details, right down to Amaterasu's individual eyelashes, silver thread picking out moonlight on wave-crests, and the damp folds of Susano-o's kimono.

"This is your brother's _spare_ coat?" He has _another_ one, a _finer_ one?

Izuna smiles bemusedly at him. "Yes. This is from before he was fully acknowledged as our father's Heir; I awakened my sharingan first, so there was a period when our Lord-Father was undecided which of us would make a better successor. He finally settled on Madara when I was seventeen, after nii-san proved his greater aptitude in all the required disciplines."

"But you _do_ also have a spare coat." She had mentioned he would not fit his shoulders into it back on that first day.

"I do, although I usually wear my older one rather than my newer one." Izuna shrugs, turning to drape the coat –still inside-out– over the corner of the chest of drawers. "I like it better."

"Can I look at your coat while you comb my hair?" He can pore over this coat tomorrow or any other time he wishes, but Izuna will be taking her coat with her when she leaves this evening and there is unlikely to be time to examine it tomorrow, considering the medic is visiting then.

She smiles. "Of course you can, Tobirama. I'll fetch it from the genkan right away."

* * *

Having his hair combed again proves extremely soporific and surprisingly warming; Tobirama yawns his way through carefully hanging his kimono over the rail now also firmly anchored in the floor and wall of the stone room and changing into his sleeping yukata, then joining Tōka in the fusuma room. He falls asleep almost at once and his dreams are restful.

The next morning he bathes, washes his hair according to the instructions and dresses in just the nagajuban, woollen layer and the green silk kimono in time for Izuna's arrival. With her is a slightly shorter woman in a long-sleeved plain linen smock over an ibis-pink kimono printed with whimsical octopus-suckered swirls in plum purple. The kimono is only visible from shin to ankle, the thick plain smock covering everything else from neck to wrist.

"Yori-san, this is Tobirama of Amaterasu," Izuna says after taking off her sandals; today she is wearing an everyday kimono in textured spun silk dyed a vibrant day-lily yellow over an under-layer that peeks out at her throat in deep red, along with a pair of hakama in an unremarkable shade of red-brown. Both outer garments are entirely undecorated, an olive-green stiff obi just visible under the hakama ties. "Tobirama-kun, this is Yori of Inari, wife to Hikaku of Yatagarasu, Lineage Head."

Having now managed to wrestle his way through the entire Uchiha legal code –if perhaps not yet grasped all the _meaning_ therein– Tobirama knows that 'Heads of Line' are just below Tajima in terms of authority within the Uchiha clan, and actually have _more_ authority in strictly civil matters. He bows.

"I am pleased to meet Uchiha Yori-sama." He is concubine to a Line Head, not an equal spouse, so is lower ranking than she.

"I am pleased to meet Uchiha Tobirama-san," the medic says briskly after also bowing, putting on a pair of the guest slippers that have mysteriously appeared in the genkan since last night, along with a wooden rack to store them in. "Please call me Yori-san outside of formal events."

"Yori-san," Tobirama repeats, retreating into the tatami room. He has his new comb in his sleeve, so Izuna can tend to his hair while Tōka is being examined.

Yori, it turns out, is a talker. She keeps up a steady stream of words as she pulls back the panels separating the fusuma room from the tatami room for more daylight, thoroughly examines Tōka from neck to ankle –he helped his cousin bathe this morning so she wouldn't feel self-conscious about that part– and then sets to work with chakra Tobirama can vaguely sense but not divine the effects of. He's not enough of a medic to hazard more than a guess of what she's doing beyond 'healing,' but it doesn't feel at all like the healing chakra he is used to.

Tobirama meanwhile sits with his forehead resting against Izuna's shoulder as she meticulously combs his hair until it is completely dry and smooth, her steady movements enhanced by just enough fire chakra to make both the comb and her hands _warm_. It's surprisingly comfortable; he finds his mind wandering despite his original intention to listen in on the medic's opinion. It would have been easier to focus had Yori limited herself to the clinical details, but they are washed away in a sea of words and vocalisations all in that same steady tone, and the effect combined with the steady pressure on his scalp is almost soporific.

He starts back to wakefulness when two fingers touch the top of his left wrist accompanied by a politely inquiring tendril of chakra scented with safflower and feather down.

"–right, you _did_ crack one of the bones; his right ulna. I can speed that on a little but it'll be tender for a good two weeks so be more _careful_ with him in future, without unconscious chakra enhancement he's _much_ more fragile than he thinks he is and battering your concubine is terribly tacky. Don't be that person, Izuna-bi, you'll set a terrible example to your little brother and your eventual children and I'll start prescribing 'bed rest' for weeks on end rather than fixing him up for you on demand."

Tobirama stares at the voluble Uchiha cradling his wrist with one hand and poking Izuna in the ribs to punctuate her lecture with the other. Izuna lets her, the expression on her face resignedly aggrieved.

"Yori-chan, I already said it was a heat of the moment thing."

"There's heat of the moment and there's heat of the moment, Izuna-bi; I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt this time because I've known you forever but if this happens again I _will_ prescribe him a week of alone time to 'recover his health' in. Don't test me."

Tobirama feels bemused at being defended over something he most certainly brought upon himself. Also bemused that Izuna very clearly has not _told_ Yori what exactly prompted her to bruise his wrists so badly she cracked one of his bones. The implication behind 'heat of the moment' that Yori has taken away is that Izuna did it during sex, likely by holding him down and gripping a bit too hard when hitting her peak. Which–

"Your control's _better_ than that, honestly Izuna-bi! I know it is; _you_ know it is. To get these bruises and a cracked bone you _wanted_ to hurt him. Ah-ah, don't you lie to me! Maybe it _was_ heat of the moment, but you hurt him _on purpose_ and that's really very tacky _indeed_ when he's already completely in your power."

For that to be Yori's conclusion Izuna can't be blaming him anymore, because if she _did_ then Yori would have noticed. Which… yes, she had _said_ she accepted his apology. But it's still a little unsettling for it to just be _over_. He knows Tōka's probably going to throw it in his face later, but for Izuna to not do so, when _she_ was the one most hurt by his actions? That's… actually that's _very_ unsettling.

"Don't turn into a sadist, Izuna-bi, I will cry. And make your life a living hell of course because I have _standards_ and your father is honestly bad enough all by himself, but I _will_ cry."

"I feel I was as much to blame for how that went as Izuna-san," he says as he sits back on his heels, unwilling to let Izuna take all this censure for something he instigated by behaving _completely inexcusably_.

"Oh you were, were you?" Yori's surprisingly green-tinted black eyes narrow shrewdly at him. "Oh I bet you were _provocative_ weren't you; said _exactly_ the wrong thing to piss her off at you at precisely the wrong moment? Yes you did. Well I hope this has been a learning experience for _you_ , because if you decide my defending you to Izuna-bi means you can make a _habit_ of this then you will find yourself requiring _extremely awkward_ medical examinations so I can be fully assured of your good health. I hope I'm making myself clear?"

Tobirama ducks his head obediently. "Completely clear, medic-san." This woman is probably younger than him, but she has all of Ōka-ba's steely authority if barely a fraction of her expertise and experience.

She smiles at him; it's almost worryingly vulpine. That the Uchiha have a 'kitsune wedding' tradition is suddenly very worrisome; Yori may not be a kitsune herself, but even just a little fox-blood can be just as bad. "Good to hear. Flex your fingers for me."

Tobirama does so instantly, then glances down at both his wrists. The bruising is entirely gone, and while his right wrist still feels vaguely tender, it is _much_ better than it was. "Thank you, Yori-san."

She nods. "I'll be back just before lunch for Tōka-san's treatment; that will be done in the washroom, so make sure you don't desperately need to use the facilities at that point because it will take the better part of an hour to do properly and nothing short of an earthquake will induce me to stop part-way through."

"Yes, Yori-san." It is good that she is prioritising Tōka's wellbeing and comfort rather than simply doing this to please Izuna; Tobirama feels himself relax a little more at the prospect of entrusting his cousin to this woman's care.

She grins at him. "My husband speaks highly of your cousin, Tobirama-san; she'll come to no preventable harm in my care."

Tobirama just ducks his head before she can read any more of his private thoughts off his face and then turns to Izuna. "Is somebody else bringing breakfast today, Izuna-san?"

* * *

It is possible that after the day of Tōka's mysterious hour-long medical treatment Tobirama would have settled back into a routine with Izuna, of hair-combing, breakfast and tea in the mornings, and then either her lingering until mid-afternoon or returning for dinner and then more hair-combing, punctuated with regular physical intimacy, but they do not get the chance. The morning after he meets Yori, Izuna arrives with breakfast in her working indigos and battlefield topknot, her older brother at her side, and Tobirama has to suppress a pang of profound disappointment.

"Another mission?"

Izuna nods as she slips out of her sandals. "I'm afraid so; just overnight, but I've been assigned a longer one less than a week after I get back. Spring gets busy; I've done well to have two weeks to spend as I please already."

Tobirama nods acceptingly; it is true that most people wishing to hire shinobi do so between March and June or else August and October; the height of summer and depths of winter are correspondingly quiet, save when it is the powerful and wealthy paying for a full campaign.

"I've brought Madara over because I can't stay long enough for tea, but seeing as the Senju are still very quiet he's been stuck on an irregular guard rotation and is willing to heat up water for you and Tōka on days I can't be here." Madara is not wearing a kimono or shirt with hakama; instead he has on a black version of Izuna's silk 'kitsune wedding' outfit, complete with phoenix-lacquered greaves holding the fabric to his shins but unembroidered save for various little crests denoting the degree of formality, hair pulled neatly back in a high tail rather than spiking wildly every which way. The man being on guard rotation is an alarming thought, but his brother's customary opponent is not particularly subtle in his chakra; no other Senju has Tobirama's sensory range, but even those with a relatively modest ability will feel Madara coming in time to flee.

Tobirama bows politely, keeping hold of the woollen kimono layered hurriedly over his sleeping yukata when he realised Izuna had brought company. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Madara-sama; my brother speaks highly of you."

Madara's face does something complicated but he bows back with a murmur of, "my sister's concubine need not stand on such ceremony with myself."

The older Uchiha does actually stay until breakfast rather than just returning later, which Tōka appreciates greatly as it gives her somebody new to talk to while Izuna combs Tobirama's hair. Tobirama vaguely follows the discussion on thrown weapon trajectories, but most of his attention is taken up by the sheer _warmth_ that Izuna's care somehow elicits. This is only the fourth time she has done it, and yet…

"You will have to brush your own hair this evening and tomorrow," she murmurs regretfully as she sets the comb down and slides her fingers through his shaggy spikes. They do not catch anywhere, a testament to her efforts.

Tobirama hums agreement a little sourly. Izuna chuckles at him.

"Do remember to take your time, please; I would be sad to come back and find all my efforts had been wasted."

He eyes her narrowly; her fond expression does not waver. "Well, you _are_ bribing me," he concedes a little playfully.

"I am!" She smiles at him. "And seeing as I am leaving the compound, I will be buying you something to wear as a gift and also acquiring a vase, as my father refuses to lend you one from the clan stock. He is convinced you would break it."

Tajima probably thinks either he or Tōka will throw it at somebody. Which… is fair enough, really. Especially when a noble clan like the Uchiha probably only have heirloom vases.

"I cannot guarantee that such would not happen," Tobirama agrees, "so better to not risk it."

"My thoughts exactly." Izuna steals a quick kiss. "Now let us eat, then we can leave my brother to entertain your cousin for what time remains before I have to depart, and you can dress and drink tea afterwards."

Tobirama nods, half his mind on wondering whether he'll find that purple bite-mark where her neck meets her shoulder when he undresses her today. It was still there yesterday evening, but her having a mission today means it has most likely been treated by a medic since then, so as not to provide a distraction in the case of a fight. Surely. Izuna's not the irresponsible sort. She won't have _left_ it, will she?

When he does get around to undressing her in the fusuma room after breakfast, the bruise on the side of her throat in the shape of his teeth _is still there_. It gives Tobirama new insight into what can be considered erotic and he goes to great lengths to communicate both his appreciation and his inspiration.

Then of course she has to leave –although her squad do not come to fetch her and heckle this time– and after watching her vanish into the chilly drizzle Tobirama is left to bathe, dress and take tea with his Lord-Wife's brother. Who apparently has all the properly modest shame Izuna lacks, as _he_ evidently struggles with looking Tobirama in the eye after having been within earshot of the fusuma room while Izuna was happily moaning Tobirama's name.

Tobirama ignores the awkwardness; the tea is perfect. Madara also proves willing to sing him the song of Indra afterwards, which thankfully banishes the lingering unease, and his style of explaining is suitably different from Izuna's to grant Tobirama greater insight into the long-gone imperial court and how the Elemental Nations' various daimyo and their courts seek to ape its glamour and function with varying levels of success.

Tōka also enjoys the tea, and finds the political debate sufficiently entertaining to not derail it. Or else she possibly does not want to scare off such novel company; despite his occasionally antiquated speech style, Madara is very amenable to explaining just about anything not strictly relating to clan matters and is very knowledgeable on both politics and economic trends. Tobirama could have gone on discussing the various ways the Water Daimyo's court both idolises the imperial model and fails to grasp many of its underlying principles all afternoon, but sadly Madara leaves when Saburō arrives with their lunch, citing the need to change before his duty rotation.

Tobirama instead spends the afternoon helping his cousin to mobilise, partly in a bid to help her keep warm but mostly because her muscles are atrophying, and then after Tōka has curled up in the well-aired-out fusuma room to sulk and nurse her aching limbs, gets out the most recent court summary. He probably still doesn't know enough characters for this –he certainly can't recognise all the ones in the legal code on sight yet– but a change is as good as a rest and he needs something engrossing to pass the time with.

Confusingly, the prospect of having to comb his own hair both this evening and tomorrow morning is somehow more disappointing than the accompanying prospective absence of sex with Izuna.

* * *

It takes seeing the short but elegantly formed olivine-glazed meiping standing in the white-painted tokonoma, holding a sakura branch with hanging white buds just starting to come into bloom, to remind Tobirama that Hanamatsuri will be next week. It also says that Izuna arrived late last night and snuck in to set this up so he'd know she was back safe, which _is_ genuinely thoughtful of her, but it is the approaching Buddha's Birthday that lingers in his mind.

It, Bon and Ōmisoka are the only festivals the Senju observe among themselves, although various clansmen do try to visit temples when on missions at certain times of year according to how devout they are. He's not always been at home for it, but even if away he knows that there will be ama-cha, the sweet tea made from hydrangea leaves, hidden in a mission comrade's belongings or else easily found in a village along the way, and flowers around the Buddha statues of any temple or shrine he passes. When at home there is abundant sweet tea, eager vassal children pillaging gardens and field margins for fresh blossoms and a short ceremony in the clan's shrine overseen by the second cousin who has taken on those duties.

He is not particularly observant or devout, but it pains him to think of not seeing or joining in with such a thing this year, not getting to laugh at Hashirama as he tries to coax the ancient wisteria climbing the side of the clan hall into flowering early –and then pouting as it ignores him with more smug superiority than a tree should be capable of– or to laugh _more_ as, a mere hour after his brother has trudged off to raid the hall's gardens for lilies and peonies, it produces a bounty of delicate purple blossoms for the clan's actual children to pick.

Thus far the score is _entirely_ in favour of the wisteria, which seems to have taken offense at Hashirama's first juvenile forays into mokuton trying to force it to flower early and held the grudge ever since. And yet, every year his brother _still tries_.

He will not get to see his brother try this year, or even have the story relayed to him by a gleeful younger cousin a day or two later of how age and spite have once again triumphed over youth and strength. He does not even know if the Uchiha clan _celebrate_ the Flower Festival.

He is _homesick_ , Tobirama realises vaguely as he kneels before the tokonoma in his fish-painted kimono, hair still damp, a dry towel draped around his shoulders and comb clutched awkwardly in one hand. This is the feeling his brother was always trying to describe a month or so into a campaign when complaining about the trees not _feeling_ like the ones around the clan compound, despite _looking_ to all intents and purposes exactly the same. Tobirama had always rolled his eyes and waited patiently for his brother to get over himself a week or so later; he'd felt the clan all around him, so hadn't understood what Hashirama was talking about. But now…

Sitting in a room entirely unlike any Senju room, in a house built very differently to a Senju home, dressed in beautiful clothing he could never have afforded for himself and looking at a vase possessing a subtle beauty that no kinsman would ever have bought for him, Tobirama _aches_ with homesickness. Not even Tōka's familiar presence in the next room can staunch the pain.

He will ask Izuna about ama-cha when she arrives with breakfast. He does not want to decorate a shrine, even though she would no doubt indulge him with flowers if he asked; he is still not devout and it would not be the same. But drinking sweet hydrangea tea with Tōka on the eighth day of the fourth month will be better than nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Izuna is a little late to breakfast, arriving in the same spun yellow kimono and red-brown hakama of a few days ago –possibly a favoured combination for when out of work clothes?– and with a large bag slung over the opposite shoulder from the stack of bento boxes.

"Sorry for the delay," she says, blinking tiredly as she steps out of her geta. "I got in quite late last night."

"It's fine Izuna; I saw the vase," Tobirama assures her, taking the bento boxes and eyeing the bag. He was promised gifts, yes, but the last lot did _not_ require a bag that large.

She brightens. "You like it?"

"It's minimalistic and very well-formed." Given her bright clothing and almost luridly vibrant coat lining, Tobirama would not have considered Izuna to be as fond of wabi-sabi as is evidently the case. Although perhaps what she enjoys looking at is different to what she enjoys _wearing_ ; after all, a person does not generally see their own clothing as much as all that once they are wearing them. Yes, the etiquette text speaks a great deal of what kimono styles and patterns mean –and even colours permitted and not permitted according to rank at court– but what one wears at home is not the same as what one wears when visiting elsewhere.

She sighs, eyeing him with slightly exasperated fondness. "My concubine has not answered my question."

"It does not offend." It provokes no strong feelings in and of itself, which in Tobirama's opinion is the mark of a good vase; it is _supposed_ to allow the eye to focus on whatever is standing inside it.

Izuna sighs. "I'll take it. Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," Tobirama concedes as he lays out breakfast. "Were you delayed on your way home yesterday?" He hopes she did not run into any of his clansmen.

Izuna shakes her head. "Client complications," she says shortly, "and some Aburame. We had to take tea, to be polite."

"I hadn't realised the Uchiha were on tea-drinking terms with the Aburame," Tōka says curiously.

Izuna flashes a distracted smile at his cousin as Tobirama serves the meal; it is the usual fare. He is most certainly _not_ going to complain about daily fish. "The Aburame are also kuge."

Slotting 'Aburame' and 'kuge' together is less strange than it might be, but then again Tobirama has never thought of Aburame as 'bug-infested abominations of nature' as certain of his clansmen do.

"I sorted out the heating, by the way," Izuna adds as she accepts her bowl. "It should start working later today and be fully functional by this evening."

"More fuuinjutsu?" Tobirama asks immediately. He's not seen anything different about the inside of the house, so it must be on the outside.

"Yes, moving the heat of the sun on the roof to under the floors, but limiting it so the floor can only get so hot and storing the unused heat for after sunset," Izuna explains with a smile. "Also the air inside each room can only get so hot, so you won't suffer as the days get warmer." She pauses, tapping her fish with her chopsticks. "Let me know if there are any issues, please? I've only used this array to heat bathing pools before, so I'm not sure how well the effect will translate."

Tobirama realises this means the Uchiha have _heated baths_ even in the absence of hot springs and is deeply jealous. They no doubt had them already –he can see how heating water with Fire chakra is an easy enough skill, for all that proper baths are a lot more water for a prolonged soak– but to not even have to expend that much effort? If it is a seal, then he too could figure out the fuuinjutsu. "Can you extend the array to the stone sink, so that excess heat can be used to heat the water for bathing?"

Izuna raises an eyebrow at him as she chews her fish. "I don't trust you not to tamper with an array you can see, Tobirama," she says gently, "and don't tell me you wouldn't; I know you better than that."

Tobirama opens his mouth to protest, but then his brain catches up with his mouth and he eats another mouthful of food instead. Tōka sniggers at him; he ignores her as pointedly as he can when his mouth is full of fish.

After breakfast Izuna produces a kokyū from her bag. "Given that these are usually covered in cat skin, I had difficulty locating one," she says, handing it and the bow in their case to Tōka. "This one is made with snakeskin instead."

"How –my thanks, Izuna-sama." Tōka glares at it, all pleased fury. "I'm not very good," she adds, looking up at Izuna.

"Do you enjoy it?" Izuna asks. "That's the only truly _required_ part of playing an instrument for your own amusement. It's not like you were _made_ to learn one as a child."

"You were?" Tobirama asks.

Izuna shrugs. "That noble education; I can play the koto and also the shamisen. But I do not often have time for either."

Tobirama considers Izuna's spontaneous musicality, make a guess at the kind of things she was forced to practice by her teacher and takes a chance. "Would you play for me at some point?"

Izuna looks at him; he has succeeded in surprising her, and given the tally of such has thus far been vastly in her favour, Tobirama relishes her shock. "My classical repertoire is sadly lacking," she says, something that is almost confusion in her unguarded eyes.

"Then play something that is _not_ classical," Tobirama counters. "You are very musical; I'm sure you know all kinds of songs."

That is not confusion; that is _wonder_ in her eyes. "Oh, I do. Most of them not fit to sing in public."

Tobirama smirks at her. "At home with your concubine is hardly public, and you would be playing, not singing."

Izuna laughs, ducking her head. "Oh, very well then; I'll play koto for you sometime. But not just yet; I need to get it out, tune it and make sure I'm well-practiced before committing to a performance."

"And _I_ shall enjoy my gift by taking it out onto the engawa, so I can both appreciate this morning's sunshine and inflict myself on our neighbours," Tōka says decisively, fingers straying possessively over the neck of the kokyū.

His clothing gift from Izuna this time is relatively modest and practical: a persimmon-print sleeping yukata and four more nagajuban to wear under his kimono, along with a rapeseed green soft obi with a damasked check pattern, for tying a summer yukata or a house kimono. Tobirama _would_ have moved directly to showing his appreciation for the gift via sexual means, but Izuna asked if she could comb his hair before he could offer.

And so, half an hour later as outside Tōka tunes the kokyū and experiments with notes and phrases, Tobirama is still fully dressed in his fish kimono, slumped forwards into Izuna and thoroughly enjoying having his hair combed.

"Relaxed?" Izuna's voice murmurs in his ear, the soft scrape of the comb on his scalp firm and steady.

"Hm," Tobirama manages vaguely.

"How would you feel about me doing all the work for once?" Izuna asks idly, her fingers toying with the short hairs at his nape. "I could just roll you onto your back, open your kimono and take things from there." She pauses. "If you actually want to do that today; it's fine if you don't."

Tobirama drags his eyes open a crack and tries to focus on his sense of Izuna's chakra. She's… warm. Not the insistent heat he now knows very well, but warm. It might be nice to take things slower, this time.

"Carry me to bed," he coaxes softly. "Undress us both and lie with me under the blankets. I can hold you in my arms and enjoy your being here, kiss your skin slowly and take my time savouring you." He tilts his head back just enough for eye contact. "Do you have anywhere else to be?"

He feels her shiver against him. "I have nowhere else to be," she admits quietly. Tobirama slumps forwards triumphantly in her arms as she slides her hands down his back to grip his thighs, lifting him easily off his feet and carrying him into the fusuma room.

The morning was already going very well, but it seems it can get better still. He probably won't get around to drinking tea until _after_ lunch; not that it matters terribly much.

The bruise of his teeth on her neck is going green around the edges and she twitches interestingly when he kisses it, but Tobirama doesn't want to rush anything today. He's sure Izuna can appreciate that, given a little encouragement. He'll help her.

* * *

He does ask Izuna about ama-cha after lunch; Tōka instantly grasps the implications and goes quiet, but Izuna is merely bemused.

"The clan does have plenty; it's easy to make for ourselves and children drink it quite a lot in spring and summer. I could bring some over tomorrow?"

"On the eighth," Tobirama says firmly.

Izuna pauses, frowning slightly for an instant as her eyes go blank. "Ah yes," she says, eyes focusing again. "Senju lean Buddhist, don't you?"

"Uchiha don't?" Tōka asks.

Izuna shakes her head. "Not even slightly; we don't name our lineages after kami just for show. I can get you ama-cha for the flower festival and when Bon comes around I'm sure I can arrange something suitable, but for Uchiha the main festival of the year is Tanabata, for stars, reunions and parting anew."

"Uchiha don't celebrate Bon?" Tobirama can't fathom it. How can they be sure the visiting spirits of their family have properly passed on? There's a lot of buried implication in her words –lineages names after kami– and of course Uchiha would enjoy Tanabata with all the love and romance associated with it; if even Madara sings love songs then it's evidently a clan-wide affliction.

"Uchiha funerals are very final," Izuna says elliptically, "and no relative has ever come back to complain yet."

Tobirama loses his prior train of thought entirely in the face of the implication that Uchiha can _see ghosts_ and the conversation slides sideways into exorcism theory, necromancy and the Uchiha opinion of it –'kill the necromancer with fire' being the prevalent view– and a profoundly disturbing dissertation on historical Jashinism, what makes land 'sacred' and why _burying_ your dead is just _asking_ for trouble.

Two hours in Izuna makes tea, but the debate rages onwards until dinner arrives and she has to leave before Tobirama can convince her that no, burying people does _not_ result in them hauling themselves out of their graves later as angry ghosts who will then haunt and murder your family for not giving them the funeral they needed to move on. In fact, given her citations and supposed eye-witness accounts, he's beginning to suspect she might be _right_ , at least concerning Uchiha or fellow practitioners of Uchiha-style kami-worship. Her view that Bon is only necessary to 'put your ancestors back in their graves because they keep climbing out of them' gave him mental images he hopes won't haunt him when he goes to bed, because they were _vivid_.

That some of the seals on the Diplomatic Quarters are _against_ angry ghosts –although Izuna called those ones 'prayers' not fuuinjutsu– indicates that the Uchiha have been taking this very seriously indeed for a very long time and fully believe they have reason to. Although he's _still_ not entirely sure what it is they find so utterly abhorrent about necromancy.

He can ask tomorrow.

* * *

Tobirama does indeed have very strange dreams, but that might partly be because when he wakes up he is _warm_ despite having not only thrown off two blankets but somehow shifted around so his head is at the foot of the futon, again. The tatami under his hand are also warm; this is the promised heating and it is very pleasant indeed. He is tempted to do without tabi or slippers today, just so as to enjoy it more.

The floor of the stone room is also pleasantly tepid underfoot and it turns out Izuna _has_ done something to the sink: the stone is now warm. It's not hot water, but it's _something_ and Tobirama will happily take it.

"It's warm," Tōka says bemusedly when Tobirama brings her a bucket of water and a flannel to wash with.

"It _is_ ," he agrees. "Comfortably so, even." It feels like early summer in the fusuma room, not the start of the fourth month.

"We need to do something nice for our keeper, if only to ensure she doesn't feel all these unnecessary luxuries are going unappreciated," Tōka decides as Tobirama helps her shuffle sideways off the futon and onto a towel for her wash.

"I will have you know," Tobirama says dryly, "that I am doing a _lot_ of appreciation." His gut flops like a hooked fish at the memory of yesterday morning, _hours_ of having Izuna's warmth and scent wrapped around him and lazy, leisurely mutual touch savoured for its own sake rather than purely as a means to an end.

He wants to do that again. He knows it's a terrible idea –Izuna has too much power over him already without his giving her more paths to bending him to her will– but he still _wants_ , and that newly-awakened longing is going to take some time and a very good distraction to box up again.

Tōka pokes him in the chest with the hand not holding the flannel. "Not like _that_! Marriage has given you _such_ a dirty mind, little cousin. We've mostly been letting her carry conversation so far, so maybe we could reciprocate a little? Nothing _important_ , but we both know classical literature, Uzumaki legends and various harmless stories that we could share without betraying anybody."

Tobirama makes a face. "No Buddhist theory, please." He has _never_ understood why they have to learn all that and Izuna would _gleefully_ tear it all down by pointing out the many, many ways a shinobi lifestyle is not _remotely_ compatible with Buddhist thought. It's a large part of why he's _not_ at all observant; it feels pointlessly hypocritical, going through the motions of false piety when all they do and _are_ is anathema. Or was it all to make it clear to them as children that shinobi are condemned from birth, so not to hold any illusions of 'goodness'? If so, it failed utterly with Hashirama, who actually tries to take some of the principles on board.

Much to their father's fury. Tobirama does his best to avoid involving himself in that conflict whenever possible, because the _truth_ is that Hashirama got most of those 'ridiculous daydreams' out of the Buddhist texts of their childhood reading lessons and Tobirama pointing that out can _only_ go badly.

Tōka grins, but it's strained. "What, you don't _want_ to hear her tear it down, possibly using the selfsame arguments as you do? No, I can see why; I have _no idea_ why we have to learn to read off those and 'tradition' is _not_ an answer."

"Do you like the kokyū?" Tobirama asks, changing the subject.

"Oh so that was _you_ , not the Deathblow somehow divining it from my finger calluses and telling her," his cousin mutters. "Yes I do; it's nice to have something I can _do_ after three weeks of absolutely nothing."

"Izuna has indicated that your offering the Uchiha a material way to benefit from your presence here will make death less likely, if perhaps not mutilation," Tobirama continues, grateful for the opening. "Izuna suggested spinning and basket-weaving."

Tōka groans whole-heartedly, burying her face in the flannel. "My mother," she mumbles direly, "will _never_ let this go."

"I'm _sorry_." Tobirama _knows_ how much work and tears and heartbreak have gone into his cousin's career as a warrior. He knows that she has gone to _incredible_ lengths to do no less than the clan's men, but also to do no _more_ than they. And here they are, where those skills Tōka has been trying to prove to her mother she does not _need_ to live a full life are in fact a _requirement_. Izuna evidently already has many of those basics as a foundation to her noble status, for all that she is a brilliant shinobi as well.

"Well, it's not the 'earning my way on my back or my knees' she always said would happen in the lack of other skills," Tōka mutters, then cringes. "Oh I'm such a _fool_ , little cousin I'm _sorry_ I didn't mean it like that."

Tobirama reminds himself very firmly that Sumi-ba did indeed say that to his cousin _multiple times_ in his hearing, and probably many more times out of it. Tōka is not attacking his choices. "I know you didn't." It still hurts though. He is doing _everything in his power_ to keep Tōka alive, because she is precious to the clan as a highly skilled warrior but also because she is _family_ and, more pragmatically, being locked in here alone with only Izuna to talk to would have broken him by now. But given their situation and their captor, Tobirama's options are _extremely limited_.

In his heart of hearts he is _grateful_ that sex is all that Izuna wants from him, shameful though that feels. He does not have to buy his cousin's life day by day with the names of his clan's suppliers and regular clients, upcoming missions –he still has two weeks-worth of those in mind from his last stint assisting his aunts with the logistics of rotating warriors between earning money and battlefields– messenger codes –hopefully now useless– and the confidences and weaknesses of kinsmen.

It is so much easier to lavish soft attention on Izuna's body and coax pleasure into being between them when he knows without _question_ that she is utterly disinterested in his secrets. She wants his body –his seed most of all– and hopefully respite from the feud for the children that will result from that. Tearing his mind apart would endanger that future peace, so she will not do it. She also knows her own strength: her clan does not _need_ his secrets to destroy the Senju, not with both himself _and_ his cousin barred from the battlefield. Becoming pregnant would only keep Izuna from the field for a year at most, perhaps two at _best_ if she were to involve herself in feeding and weaning the child; his clan does not have anybody short of Hashirama capable of matching the Deathblow, much less Izuna now that he and Tōka are off the field. And his brother has his hands full with Madara, so cannot afford to be distracted.

Izuna sees neither reason nor need to do all within her power to grind his clan into nothingness and Tobirama is acutely grateful for that. For that generosity he is willing to be patient and generous in return.

"So what is your plan for today?" Tōka asks after an awkward pause, determinedly attempting to salvage the conversation as she dries herself off.

"It depends how long Izuna stays for; the mission disrupted her previous routine," Tobirama replies, going along with her. "If she does linger after breakfast then I will volunteer something harmless to talk about; you are right that I need to reciprocate in order to hold her attention."

Tōka nods gratefully. "I will ask about basket-weaving later; I _am_ bored, and my being willing to meet expectations will reduce tensions."

"Thank you." Tōka does in fact have a knack for art, both life-like sketches and hiding floor-plans and maps in seemingly-innocuous illustrations, but Tobirama's study of fuuinjutsu means Izuna will never give them writing implements. His cousin can also carve wood like her father does, if less swiftly and more crudely –she is decades less practiced– but Izuna is not about to give her a _blade_. Not when she so evidently respects Tōka as a shinobi, broken legs or not; they even took away her _hairpins_. The pointiest things either of them have laid hands on in the last three weeks are chopsticks and they are light and flimsy things, not lacquered hardwood or smooth horn.

Then Izuna is at the door and it is time for him to tip away Tōka's wash-water and begin the day's performance.

* * *

Izuna only stays a little while today, long enough for breakfast, combing his hair and setting out tea to brew; she arrived in her indigoes rather than kimono and hakama and cited training duties. She did however promise to come back mid-afternoon rather than just in time for dinner, so that is something.

He and Tōka enjoy the tea, then she helps him wrestle with the court transcripts until lunch and shoos him out onto the engawa after it.

"You need some sunshine, little cousin, and it's a nice day; I will play kokyū in here until Izuna arrives, then sit outside myself until dinnertime."

It is a lovely spring afternoon, as it happens; the sunshine on his kimono is very warming, and if he closes his eyes to focus more on his hearing there is a lot to listen to, even without chakra to boost matters. The regular monotone wailing of still-unknown origins, the distant rush of the river –are they truly that close to it? Evidently so– the high laughter of children, the rustle of trees, the singing of birds, the low ever-shifting susurrus of adult conversations out of earshot, the occasional clucking of chickens and, more threateningly, the distant cawing of crows.

Evidently the Uchiha's very aggressive messenger summons are also involved in overlooking the clan compound, ensuring no enemy sneaks in. That does explain why no clan messenger summons have shown themselves to him or Tōka; the crows will have seen them first and mobbed them.

Tobirama vaguely wishes his own summons were here; the leopards would enjoy a day spent basking in the spring sunshine. But there will be none of that, so he will have to make the most of this afternoon on their behalf. The sun is high enough for his face to be in the shadow of the roof and still have sunlight to fall on him from mid-chest downwards if he kneels in just the right place; he settles in to bask and let his mind wander.

* * *

"What does she see in you?"

Tobirama jerks violently out of his half-doze; the sun has moved around in the sky –mid-afternoon is almost upon him– and there is an Uchiha glaring at him from just outside the fence of the Diplomatic Quarters, arms folded and eyes red as another four Uchiha hover nervously around them.

"Well?" They –she; it is the Vengeful Ghost– demand loudly, and Tobirama realises the Senju title for this particular warrior carries very different connotations to the Uchiha. Also that this woman is one of those Uchiha for whom _any_ Senju is a perfectly acceptable target.

Tobirama smoothes down his kimono. "Izuna-sama knows my brother has a soft heart," he says clearly, "and will refuse to either fight his own nephews or allow his clan to battle them. So she wishes my blood for her brother's heirs, so that the Senju will not fight the Uchiha in my brother's lifetime." He is sure she has many other reasons as well, but that is the reason she gave him first and the one most likely to hold water with an angry Uchiha.

It is hard to tell at this distance and through the coat, but Tobirama still gets the impression that the brewing tension has mostly dissipated; the Vengeful Ghost's shoulders' drop, one of her comrades leans in to murmur urgently in her ear and another one breathes out a long, shaky sigh. The nervy, jittery one at the back of the group says something, words inaudible but tone clearly urgent and the entire group moves off.

The last one lingers for an instant, then offers him a swift, sincere bow before hurrying after the rest of their squad. Tobirama decides that is more than enough excitement for one day and goes back inside.

* * *

He does not tell Izuna about that meeting when she arrives a little later in the afternoon, once more dressed in a fine kimono and hakama with a more feminine hairstyle. She will either hear about it from her own clansmen or not at all; instead he mentions an Uzumaki story that yesterday's denouncement of necromancy had reminded him of, of a Water Country nobleman who abandoned his Uzumaki lover in favour of a young neighbouring princess and his lover's subsequent vengeance on him.

Izuna is a surprisingly delightful audience, her eager appreciation and curiosity bringing new life to the story he knows by heart, yet balanced by a willingness to wait for the natural pauses in the story to pose her questions. Her intensity in demanding the details of the shambling dead the enraged fuuinjutsu master dragged from their graves is more stimulating than frightening, especially since she subsides when it is revealed that the walking corpses were merely puppets and not animated by human souls.

"That is what makes necromancy so abhorrent," she explains earnestly: "the soul has no escape from it without help. How would _you_ feel Tobirama, if after having died I called you back? And, being now dead, you were _unable_ to disobey my every whim?"

That puts a great deal of the Uchiha intolerance of necromancy into perspective; Izuna is correct that he would be _extremely_ unhappy were he to seek release from his current captivity in death, then find that avenue of escape not only thwarted but the freedom of his own mind entirely denied him.

"So Uzumaki Ranshiko was not actually doing necromancy?" Tobirama feels this distinction is important.

Izuna frowns. "I think not. It sounds like she was just _animating_ the bodies, like a puppeteer but without chakra strings, rather than using them to call back the souls of those who had once inhabited them to do so once more."

That makes sense; commanding physical movement rather than something he suspects is a sibling discipline to invocation, with all the associated perils therein. "Thank you for explaining the difference; that makes many things more clear."

Izuna smiles at him, eyes sparkling. "So what happened next? After the furious and scorned Uzumaki Ranshiko dragged the bodies up from the ground of the nobleman's private family cemetery and set them shambling towards his residence?"

Tobirama smiles, the next section of the story already lined up in his mind. " _Well_ …"

* * *

Tōka times her basket-weaving inquiry perfectly, posing it to Izuna two days before she is due to leave on her multi-day mission, after she arrived in the late morning of the one day in seven she does not ever bring breakfast and has finished combing Tobirama's hair.

"I just want to do something _useful_ , please?" His cousin implores with complete honesty. "I'm not used to this much inactivity and it's getting me down, Izuna-sama. Tobirama mentioned basket-weaving and while I've never done it before, I _am_ willing to have a go, if I can. Or I could make hats; I've done that before." It is true that all Senju can make hats –they are a basic necessity– although many warriors are not capable of making hats others are willing to _wear_.

Izuna's face does something complicated, recognition colliding with amusement and apprehension. "No hats," she manages.

Tobirama considers this. "Is there a reason _why_ no hats?" He asks shrewdly. That had been an _interesting_ reaction.

Izuna clears her throat in a way that he now knows indicates there is a _story_ to be told. "The Uchiha legal code contains the _laws_ surrounding the keeping of concubines," she says measuredly, "but there are also other guidelines laid down by previous Uchiha who have stolen warriors from the field of battle. One of those guidelines, as laid out by my ancestor the Amaterasu and Outguard Head Biei-Fuji, is as follows: do _not_ allow Senju concubines to make reed hats."

"Did she offer a _reason_?" Tōka asks curiously. Tobirama already has an inkling of where this story is going and hopes he's right; if he is, then this will be _highly_ entertaining.

"She did." Izuna pauses theatrically. "A squad of Uchiha, wearing hats made by Biei-Fuji's concubine, were set upon in Tea by a group of Terumii and pursued for _several weeks_ as new people kept on taking up the chase, until the Squad Leader realised there had to be something distinguishing them and made his squad ditch _everything_ they were wearing, although clan coats were simply bundled up and hidden. This did throw their pursuers off, and enabled the Uchiha to get close enough to overhear that there was something about the hats that identified them as having committed a crime worthy of summary execution. Thus," Izuna's eyes shine for all her expression is sombre: "no hats."

Tobirama, having been taught the basics of Terumii hat-code by his grandmother and getting the advanced lesson while visiting Uzushio during the daimyo's cease-fire a year ago, has a _very_ good idea of what Biei-Fuji's concubine had vindictively woven into those hats. The thought of an Uchiha squad running thither and yon all over Tea for weeks on end, baffled and bewildered by how entirely new people kept suddenly deciding to try and kill them, is so hilarious that he can't help chuckling. Sadly he will not ever have that opportunity open to him, although he at least now knows he is not the first Senju concubine to ever have been stolen by the Uchiha; he's never heard so much as a hint of such a thing before.

He immediately boxes up that thought and shoves it to the back of his mind.

"Yes, now we laugh," Izuna says ruefully, "but I shall nonetheless bow to the wisdom of my ancestors: _no hats_."

"Did the concubine get in trouble?" Tōka asks; a good question.

"I suspect Biei-Fuji took it in reasonably good humour; after all, what else was she to expect when capturing and forcibly wedding a prisoner of war," Izuna says wryly, "especially since she was _already_ married, so had no reason to inform the daimyo of acquiring a concubine. A second concubine at that, for all that it was Kabema's eldest who eventually succeeded her."

Tobirama chokes. "You're _descended_ from him?" He had to have been _main family_ to have a name ending in the -ma suffix!

Izuna raises her eyebrows. "Greetings to my cousins three hundred years and at least eleven generations removed? I thought Saburō made it obvious there was Senju blood in the Uchiha clan. Madara's got it too, if you know how to look; his chakra reserves for one and that solid build for another. Uchiha with less of Kabema in them tend to be slimmer and rather less balanced in their chakra; as I said before, as a clan we lean yin."

Tōka covers her mouth with one hand, horror warring with hilarity; Tobirama covers his entire face with both hands and sags.

"Now that you say it," he mutters through his hands, "it _is_ rather obvious. Did your mother have Hatake blood?" This puts an entirely _different_ spin on things.

"One of her grandfathers was from Frost, if that's what you're asking."

Yes, that _would_ explain how Saburō can look so bafflingly identical to him despite also being entirely Uchiha: this is pure coincidence of the most unfortunate kind. "Thank you for the clarification." That is both more mundane and more plausible than his fears of his father having assaulted Tajima's wife, which now look very foolish indeed. If his father had done that Tajima would most _certainly_ have killed him, no matter how many of his kin died achieving it. It dovetailing neatly with Tajima only publically claiming two sons had added weight to his fears, but he can also see how keeping Saburō out of the public eye would move him away from being a target.

"Well, now you know why hats are _not_ permitted," Izuna's lips twitch, "I will see about arranging a basket-weaving tutor for you, Tōka-san."

"You have my whole-hearted thanks, Izuna-sama." Tōka takes a moment to think. "Might I have my tea on the engawa? I would like to enjoy the sunshine while it lasts." There is a hint of rain on the wind today and clouds advance slowly from the east. It may not arrive until evening, but tomorrow will doubtless be wet.

"Of course." Izuna pauses. "I will not be at home for Hanamatsuri, but Madara-nii has agreed to heat water for your ama-cha." She then proceeds to set out the teapot and cups and heat the water, then while the tea is brewing moves Tōka outside. His cousin likes to rotate which section of the engawa she sits on, and today has selected the south-eastern corner; presumably for both the direct sunshine as noon approaches and to keep an eye on the gathering clouds. She however does not take her kokyū, but a new novel that Izuna has found for her to read.

The sakura branch in the vase has bloomed; it is now hanami season. Tobirama can see a few other cherry trees just peeking over the buildings if he looks west, further into the Uchiha compound –or at least he thinks that is where the centre is, given that the river noise comes from the east– in a range of shades from pure white to deep pink, but there isn't one nearby. The only trees he can see entirely are the pine by the gate to the east and a field of stumpy willows to the south, all shorter than the building beyond them and without a single branch older than this year's spring growth.

Izuna returns and pours the tea; Tobirama finds that increasing familiarity with sencha only helps him enjoy it more. "Is there a craft you would be interested in learning?" Izuna asks him after they have sat in comfortable silence for a little while.

"You mentioned spinning," Tobirama says, "but I suspect that would require a great deal of practice to achieve more than mediocre results. Is there anything else that you think I might be capable of that builds on my existing skills?" He has no idea whatsoever about crafts, but he is indeed reaching a point where he, like Tōka, _desperately_ needs to _do_ something.

Izuna visibly ponders this. "You have a very orderly mind," she says after a pause, "and an eye for patterns. You see them developing and can form the shape of a plan in your mind before you begin it."

Both these things are true, although he has only ever applied them to missions and the battlefield before now.

"I believe that you would enjoy learning to braid obi and armour cords," Izuna decides firmly. "It is not hard, and both attractive and functional results can be achieved with a little ingenuity; I learned as a child." She pauses. "Because you have asked, I will trust you with silk," she adds quietly. "I request that you not make me regret it."

Tobirama could kill himself –or Tōka, or make a good attempt at murdering Saburō– far more easily if he had a good length silk cord to hand. Which Izuna is now placing within his reach, because he is bored and asked for something other than spinning or basket-weaving.

He bows, deep and sincere. "Thank you for your trust." He cannot promise her he will prove deserving of it.

Izuna accepts both what he says and does not say. "This will however be harder for me to arrange than the basket-weaving for Tōka-san, so I will be unable to provide you with materials or instruction until after my next mission."

"I have asked you for a far more difficult thing than you first offered me," Tobirama acknowledges quietly, sipping his now-cooled tea. "It is only to be expected that arranging such would take longer."

Izuna sips her own tea. Tobirama decides that the current atmosphere is rather uncomfortably sombre and moves to introduce a new subject:

"Have you been to Water Country?" He has wanted to ask since her offhand mentioning of the fire mountains that the Terumii husband.

Izuna hums. "Just twice; once on a mission commissioned by the daimyo, who I believe did so purely to add to his own consequence –and my father knew it, going by how much we were paid for so little– and a second time when my Squad was paid to retrieve stolen property that certain Water Country noblemen had knowingly bought from pirates."

"So you visited the capital." Tobirama has never seen it, and heard only the most fleeting of accounts from Uzumaki cousins who have.

"For that first mission, yes; the noblemen were at least careful enough to hide their dishonestly gained goods in their personal fifes." Izuna pauses, eyeing him as she sets down her empty teacup. "Would you like me to describe it to you?"

"Yes, please." He is always interested in hearing about new locations and discoveries.

Izuna refills the teapot and heats it between her hands. "The central island of the Water Archipelago has many names –I am sure I know less than half of them– but in Fire it is called Jōhekishima, the fortress-island, and the capital city is Ōkamato, gate of the caldera. The local nobility call the island Okajuen, the honoured orchard, those of the lowest caste Ishiguchi, the stone mouth."

Tobirama _itches_ to ask questions, but he will let Izuna talk herself to a pause first.

"Those so low they are denied caste call the island 'Izanami's laundry basket,' and the city Sometsuke-yomi, the blue-dyed hell, after the cobalt-glazed tiles on the rooftops of the wealthy, the making of which regularly poisons the workers of the potteries and kilns in the industrial districts. The nobility also name their city after their roof tiles, calling it 'the lower heavens,' to the point that the tiles of the outdoor steps and walkways of the daimyo's palace are carefully shaded blue and white, painted in patterns that imitate clouds. The highest-caste districts use the deepest, richest blues on their rooftops, painted in several layers before firing; lower caste districts are allowed only one or two layers, the lowest caste have white-glazed tiles and those without caste have no tiles at all, thatching their roofs with reeds. If indeed they have a place to lay their head at all and are not sleeping on the floors of their owners or in the streets."

"What do the lowest caste call the city?" Tobirama asks. Izuna has omitted the mid- and lower-ranking nobility and the affluent merchant classes entirely, perhaps because she did not come into contact with them, but the lowest caste are the only ones for which she has not named both island and city.

"They call it Toishi, the grindstone." Izuna sets the heated pot aside. "Ever are the lower classes the grist in the mill of the wealthy, crushed between the harshness of nature beneath them and the oppression from above, and from that oppression the privileged eat, and eat well."

A very interesting perspective from somebody whose bloodline is considered closest to the long-lost Imperial lineage, but asking about that now will derail Izuna from her description of Water Country and Tobirama doesn't want to do that. "What kinds of things did you see there?"

Izuna smiles. "So many things. Elegant water gardens filled with rare koi. Kimono in every possible vibrant shade on men as well as women; wide and elegantly-knotted obi too. Street stalls with tanks of live fish, turned into sushi before your eyes. Every possible sea creature battered and deep-fried on a stick. So _much_ blue and white porcelain, you can't begin to imagine it."

"Tell me more?" Tobirama wants _details_.

"Of course."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a funeral on Thursday, so will not be updating then. The next update will be on Monday week.

Tōka's new basket-weaving tutor arrives after breakfast the next day: Uchiha Shari is a very serious twelve-year-old trailing a toddler, who is released once inside the gardens of the Diplomatic Quarters on the assurance that anybody younger than ten can only leave if carried out. Tobirama very firmly shelves the implications of that –and what it says about the length of time past concubines have spent in here, including the Senju Kabema he is trying very hard not to think about in more depth– in favour of watching Izuna stand in the garden and solemnly introduce 'Lady Shari of the Uchiha Clan' –evidently not everybody in-clan belongs to a 'lineage', although he is not sure how those are formed, ranked amongst themselves or what the qualifiers are, but it is clear that all are kuge regardless– to Tōka, then the firmly self-possessed girl's opening questions regarding Tōka's experiences with weaving –only hats– and Shari's glance and confident nod to Izuna.

Izuna nods in return, fetches the stool and work-basket from outside the front gate, then a second basket which she tips over the short grass for the toddler –who hugs Izuna's thighs and pounces on the wooden blocks, starting to build a lopsided structure with them– before finally walking into the genkan and taking her sandals off again.

"I have been very _firmly_ informed by several Obaasans that I should start you on hemp fibre cords first, as that way you can feel less self-conscious about potential mistakes," she says after closing the shōji for the illusion of privacy. "I have submitted your measurements so a stand can be made –I was told it would be ready right after lunch– and I have been assured there will be dyed threads properly bobbined up for you by then as well."

She looks slightly bemused, but Tobirama feels it is a very good sign that Izuna's clansmen are actively assisting her in her quest to keep him occupied and entertained. It suggests that, despite the rocky start and poisoning attempt, enough people are willing to trust that Izuna knows what she's doing to take the risk of getting involved. They are also right: he _will_ feel less self-conscious about his first attempts at cord-braiding if it is not silk he is potentially ruining.

"Why do they need my measurements?" He asks.

"It's to do with seated height and arm length; you're a bit larger than the spare stands that the clan has already can comfortably accommodate, so you're getting a new one made. Don't worry about it; as I said, it's quick work."

Tobirama accepts this –woodwork can indeed be completed very quickly by experienced hands– and suggests they 'pass the time' in the fusuma room until then, which Izuna easily accepts. Surprisingly, she also accepts his desire to take things as slowly as possible, lying on his futon together with limbs intertwined, skin gliding teasingly against skin punctuated with languid kisses and gentle, coaxing touches. There is no need to rush; lunch is still quite some time away.

* * *

Some of Izuna's choices that he has witnessed and experienced over the past month make perfect, brutal sense. Others have made increasing sense as he has familiarised himself with the Uchiha legal code and the nuances of their status in the eyes of the daimyo and other nobility of the Elemental Nations. However a few of them…

He is greatly appreciative that Izuna has decided to trust him with silk thread, both in how it will present him with new creative opportunities and a way to pass the time, yet also potentially aid in his eventual escape. However, that does not mean Izuna trusting him like that makes _sense_. He can sort of reason his way around her straightforward forgiveness for the transgression against her person –she wants him to feel indebted and be eager to please; she possibly also _expected_ him to lash out at her sooner or later– and even the tolerance of Tōka –Tobirama is far more cautious for his cousin's presence and vastly less desperate to escape at the first possible opportunity– but many of the other, more personal things make less sense.

Why is she combing his hair? Were it anybody but Izuna, Tobirama might suspect she is taking advantage of having a living dress-up doll, but that is not Izuna at _all_ and does not match her other behaviour. She waited for him to _ask_ for finer clothing, after all, rather than pressing it on him.

It is not that he _dislikes_ her combing his hair, but it is confusing. Izuna showed little to no interest in his appearance until he asked for better clothing, then only seemed to notice his hair after he complained about it looking untidy, and has given no impression that she cared particularly about _either_ of those things until he did. Surely she cannot be so uncaring of his presentation –particularly how it reflects upon her own– when she is a high-ranking member of a noble clan?

The gifts do actually make sense: Izuna knows Tobirama _will_ set his will against hers –they are still enemies, their clans still at war– so she has provided a battlefield, in the hope that he will not go looking for a more awkward one. It… _has_ proved effective, he can admit that. Given means to exert a modicum of control over his circumstances, Tobirama has taken very quickly to teasing, pouting, cajoling and bargaining in order to do so, rather than spending his time plotting means of escape. Very clever of her and not something he can now _stop_ doing without rousing her suspicions.

It is, annoyingly, also a battlefield he is capable of _winning_ on. He _can_ incite Izuna into spending money on him, into giving him more of her time that she would do if he were less welcoming of her company. Her initial schedule has shifted; when she is on clan grounds she does her best to spend half the day with him, morning or afternoon, rather than simply arriving with meals for half the week. The matter of the silk proves she _can_ be persuaded to trust him more than experience says is wise; he has the time and means to plan an escape for himself, if rather less to plan one for Tōka. He will also have only one chance, so it might be wiser to focus on getting his cousin out, then wait through the increased security before making his own move.

Izuna's duty to her clan is to keep her _concubine_ contained, and while the fuuinjutsu on his back is highly effective to that end –he does not want to even _test_ it– if doubts are raised following a successful escape by his cousin, Izuna may add more layers to it.

Tobirama is not a _fool;_ he knows his marriage to Izuna is final and cannot be undone, _especially_ not when a condition of his hopeful-escape involves the daimyo being informed of his new situation. With a month having passed with no action on the Senju side Tobirama has no doubt his father believes him dead, but to escape he _will_ need the assistance of his grandmother and of Mito-san, to at least _contain_ the seal on his back if removal proves impossible. But he has no lover or sweetheart in his own clan, and indeed has never given much thought to marriage or children before Izuna coerced him into accepting her offer with Tōka as leverage. It will be no great loss to him in the long run to live out his life without taking another spouse or lover, should his hopes be realised and he _does_ manage to get away from Izuna. Although in order to not get abducted again, he will probably end up living in Uzushio. Not his first choice, but better by far than hiding out in some remote corner of Earth Country and hoping Izuna doesn't hunt him down.

This would all be less confusing if he could work out what Izuna _wants_ from him, as opposed to what she is already getting out of having him as her concubine. Because, frankly, she doesn't _need_ to do all that she is doing to meet that minimum. For regular meals, reading material and eventually some kind of activity while he and Tōka were kept alive and mostly whole, Tobirama would have happily serviced her twice daily for however long it took for her to conceive, which would have been _enough_ on both sides. But Izuna evidently wants _more_ than that and Tobirama can't work out what or why.

Well, he has _some_ idea on why: she wants peace, so wants him to see her clan as more than an undifferentiated mass of enemies. Which she is succeeding at, irritatingly. The wedding party broke through that barrier without him quite realising it and Saburō then did most of the rest of the work, with Shari today making him realise that even if he _does_ get away, he's going to feel extremely uncomfortable fighting any Uchiha except Izuna, particularly the younger-looking ones.

Fighting Izuna would have different pitfalls, but she at least would almost certainly _survive_.

… is this why his brother wants peace? Is this the _real_ reason? Does Hashirama look at their enemies, the people who would destroy the Senju if they could, and see little brothers, laughing cousins, grieving aunts and smiling uncles looking back at him?

"Deep thoughts?"

Tobirama refocuses on what, or rather who, is in front of him. "You are confounding," he informs her blandly.

"You're physically stronger than I am, with more chakra and probably more natural brilliance as well," she says matter-of-factly, her breath teasing his skin from the proximity. "I have to stay ahead of you somehow."

"More natural brilliance?" Tobirama repeats dryly, brushing his hair out of his face again. "Says the fuuinjutsu master; false modesty is unbecoming."

"Nobody _taught_ me fuuinjutsu, Tobirama," Izuna says lightly, running her fingers over his chest. "I simply learnt that it existed and tried to replicate it. 'Foolhardy' was the nicest thing my father had to say on the subject, along with swearing I had to have the gods' own luck."

Tobirama feels a cold chill shoot up his spine; gods' own luck _indeed_. "How are you not _dead?"_

Izuna chuckles, which is an _interesting_ feeling given their current relative positions. "Madara says that the kami that smiled on my birth thinks I'm too amusing to leave to die," she says, tone more wry than anything else. "A mixed blessing, but most blessings are."

"My point stands," Tobirama points out, leaning closer and lightly nipping at her shoulder; "you are a fuuinjutsu master and I am not."

"Define mastery," Izuna says, voice hitching halfway through as his fingertips find the tender spot over her kidneys.

"The moment when you realise you know almost nothing and will spend the rest of your life learning yet _still_ have barely scratched the surface when you die," Tobirama retorts instantly, quoting his Uzumaki grandmother. He's not there yet, frankly; right now he's still learning as much as he can and trying to design simple seals. He had _no idea_ Izuna knew _anything_ about fuuinjutsu until she ambushed him with one on the battlefield and it knocked him unconscious.

"Oh. Ah! Well then, my honoured concubine is correct then; my apologies," Izuna manages, squirming in a way that makes Tobirama shudder as well. "I am indeed a fuuinjutsu master. However I still hold that you think more than I do."

"That much," Tobirama says scathingly, "is _very obvious_." What kind of feckless _moron_ just tries to _reinvent_ fuuinjutsu?!

Izuna laughs, entire body shaking. "Oh, have mercy on my ego, my treasure!"

"No, it needs _thoroughly_ crushing," Tobirama retorts, batting his fringe out of his eyes. "What did you do, just pick up an ink brush and start drawing?"

Izuna closes her mouth and slides her eyes away from his.

"You did, didn't you." Tobirama is _appalled_. "I hope your father _whipped_ you."

"That," Izuna replies a little breathily, "does not often happen to daughters, Treasure. Especially not when they need to be fighting in the field in less than half a week. He ordered the clan not to give me my favourite food for six months instead." She tries to pout at him, but can't stop smiling for long enough for it to be remotely sincere. "I suffered _terribly_ , Treasure."

"What _is_ your favourite food?" Tobirama asks, now also struggling slightly to keep his voice level. He can't help it, that utter failure to pout is just so _funny_ right now.

"Daifuku," Izuna says, trying for mournful and missing badly. "He even banned me from shiruko, on the basis that it was basically daifuku filling served warm. Worst punishment _ever_."

Tobirama bursts out laughing and finds he can't stop. Doesn't _want_ to stop, even; Izuna's expression of outraged betrayal is visibly warring with her enjoyment at his attentions and it's somehow the funniest thing _ever_. "Is that what I must do, if I want to bend you to my will?" He gasps, shifting so he is leaning over her slightly. "Convince your father to ban you from sweets?" That Izuna is deeply enamoured of sweetened red-bean paste is just so hilariously human he can't help himself.

"Don't you –don't you _dare_ Tobirama I will cut off your fish–"

"My –my Lord-Wife _abuses_ me so–!" He manages to blurt out in between chuckles.

"Oh you–!" She swats at the back of his head, mostly hitting hair. "Tease. Dreadful. Wicked."

"You _like_ it," Tobirama retorts, leaning in again to nibble on her earlobe.

"For my sins," Izuna agrees breathlessly, her short fingernails digging into his back. "Tobirama _please_ –"

"Patience, you'll get there," he assures her, still chuckling helplessly.

"To-bi- _ra_ -ma!" It's almost a whine.

"I promise," he murmurs into her hair, all loose across his pillow and smelling as much like sweat and pleasure as the rest of her. "Enjoy the moment–"

"Doing this –on _purpose_ – you fiend–" Izuna gasps out, her entire body trembling against his.

Tobirama chuckles again. "Of course I am," he teases quietly right by her ear. "You whimper _beautifully_ when you're desperate."

Izuna _does_ whimper then. It's exactly as lovely as it was last time.

"Do that again? For me?" Tobirama coaxes, now also very breathless and struggling with his control.

"You– you first," Izuna manages, twisting her head around to meet his eyes with half-mindless defiance.

Tobirama decides to cheat and promptly does so; Izuna whimpers in surprise –not quite as nice as desperation but still very gratifying– and then peaks; Tobirama's follows her over that cliff less than a minute afterwards.

"Cheater," Izuna manages a while later.

"Is that a complaint?" Tobirama asks, feeling too pleasantly smug at having got one over her to really care about consequences right now.

"No, I knew that already," Izuna admits, pressing her face against his throat. "You like winning."

"I do." He's willing to take very single victory against Izuna he can get right now, so long as it doesn't sabotage the opportunity for further victories later.

"Of all the ways I could lose to you," Izuna murmurs a little while later, "I think this is my favourite."

"But you're not going to make it _easy_ for me," Tobirama adds, knowing it's the truth.

"Of course not. Why would I?" Izuna teases back, smile audible. "I'd have less fun."

The truth is, Tobirama would _also_ have less fun if Izuna didn't give as good as she got. He's trying not to examine that too closely, but it keeps creeping up on him.

"Can I kiss you until lunchtime?" He asks. By how the light angles through the honeycomb-carved transom panels above the fusuma he can tell noon is a good hour off yet, but that just means he can take his time.

She tilts her head back to eye him, lassitude warring with scepticism as she reaches across to sweep his hair out of his face. "What is your ulterior motive, oh victorious one?"

"I _really_ like how you say my name when you can't decide if you want me to stop or keep going," Tobirama confesses, completely honest and entirely provocative. He's always known Izuna's moods and body well –had to in order to fight her without losing– and bedding her has expanded that knowledge in new and rather intriguing directions.

"You want Saburō to overhear us when he arrives with lunch and make disgusted faces at you over the bento boxes," Izuna corrects him mildly.

"That is a nice bonus," Tobirama concedes. Now he understands the likely cause of the uncanny resemblance between them he is less uncomfortable with Izuna's little brother, and the fourteen-year-old is just so amusingly disgusted by the reality of his sister having a sex life that Tobirama can't help himself.

"Well, who am I to deny my concubine one of life's small pleasures?"

Tobirama kisses her on the mouth, then over the bruise on her throat –still greenish– and starts gradually working his way down her body. There's no rush, after all.

* * *

Izuna is positively _languid_ at lunch, which provokes exactly the disgusted grimace from Saburō that Tobirama was hoping for and makes Tōka wiggle her eyebrows at them both. Tobirama follows Izuna's example and ignores his cousin entirely; the one time Tōka _had_ tried to needle Izuna verbally, Izuna had raised a cool eyebrow and asked oh-so-mildly if Tōka-san was perhaps feeling a tad _frustrated_.

The implication had made Tobirama struggle not to choke on his soup and Tōka had been left entirely without words, because there was _nothing_ she could have said that would not have left her open to further verbal obliteration. His cousin now limits her teasing to when Izuna is absent, which is less of an improvement than it might be when Izuna will be on a mission tomorrow and for several days after. Knowing Izuna a little better now, Tobirama is well aware that single blighting comment was very restrained; his Lord-Wife could have offered to arrange some form of _assistance_ for his cousin.

Today Tōka shows off her lopsided but successful basket in very self-deprecating terms, but Tobirama can see the satisfaction and determination in his cousin's eyes so he praises her efforts sincerely. It is, after all, more than he can do.

"Will you be keeping your books in it, Tōka-san?" Izuna asks.

Tōka pauses. "I could, I suppose? It probably won't last very well."

It is true that the basket it not woven very tightly or very evenly, so is likely to work its way apart over time.

"But in the meantime you will have a basket," Izuna points out calmly, "and when you do eventually need to replace it you will be able to see how far you have come." Tobirama tries not to think about how long that might take and whether his cousin will still have both feet at that point.

"I suppose," Tōka concedes cheerfully, more focused on the day's achievement than the uncertain future. "Will we have tea after lunch, Izuna-sama?"

"A little later that usual today I believe," Izuna says vaguely, getting to her feet and shambling comfortably over towards the front door, dressed only in her vibrantly yellow kimono and the stiff olive green obi over her nagajuban, hair lazily half-knotted at her nape. Her hakama and red under-layer are still draped over the small cabinet in the fusuma room, Izuna having not bothered to put them back on for lunch. Tobirama, dressed in his green kimono over a nagajuban –the heating fuuinjutsu is actually effective and comfortable enough that he does not _need_ a dōnuki today– and his orange obi, oddly enough feels neither over- nor under-dressed in comparison.

"Izuna-bi, your posture is terrible!" rings out from the corridor in grandmotherly tones. Saburo reflexively straightens up from his slight slouch and quickly starts gathering up the remains of the meal.

"Why 'bi'?" Tōka asks quietly. "And _which_ 'bi' exactly?"

Tobirama agrees that it's a little odd how the entire clan seems to use that suffix for Izuna and for her only. And yes, there are certainly options. Is it 'little Izuna' or 'fish Izuna' or 'fire Izuna' or 'sunshine Izuna' or possibly even 'auspicious Izuna'?

"It's 'beautiful Izuna,'" Saburō says blandly. "It started up when nee-san was fifteen, because at the end of the campaign that year our employer for the field-burning mission commended Otōsama on the 'manliness' of his son, and Otōsama didn't realise until _much_ later in the conversation that he meant Izuna-nee, not Madara-nii." The teenager paused for effect. "Apparently Izuna-nee spent the year cheerfully seducing details of Senju movements out of various farmers' daughters. And just seducing them generally, according to Takao-ji."

Tobirama remembers that year. Izuna was _relentless_ ; it didn't matter how careful they were, somehow his –her– division _kept on finding him_.

"We were sold out by _our client's field workers?_ " he demands incredulously.

Saburō smirks, lazy as a cat. "Maybe your client should have paid _them_ , not _you_ ," he drawls. "Engendered a little loyalty, so they warned their daughters against handsome young shinobi who reward details with kisses."

The realisation that there is _considerably_ more to Izuna's reputation as an irredeemable flirt and womaniser than he ever gave it credit for hits Tobirama like a bucket of icy water. However he does not get time to _process_ this revelation, because at that very moment Izuna steps back into the tatami room, hair now much more respectably arranged, back elegantly vertical and taking appropriately small steps as she carries what looks like a stool. She is followed by an older lady with grey hair, surprisingly few wrinkles and a very straight back.

"Azumaya-ba, may I present my concubine, Tobirama of Amaterasu," Izuna says; Tobirama rises to his feet on automatic and bows as to a respected elder. "Tobirama-kun, this is Lady Azumaya of the Uchiha, aunt to my father's sister's husband, who has most kindly offered to teach you kumihimo braiding."

Azumaya-san wears a cotton kimono of a clear medium blue like still water, printed with a regular pattern of spools with trailing threads in darker grey and belted with a simple checked obi in deep red and warm cream, complete with red and indigo layers peeking out at the collar and silk obi cords in a more delicate blue fastened around her waist, finished off with a tortoise-shaped horn or bone obijime to keep it in place.

"I am honoured to meet Azumaya-san," Tobirama replies, grateful for all those hours of wrestling with the legal code and etiquette guide that mean he knows his own precise ranking both within the Uchiha clan and outside of it, as well as how to address people without giving offense.

If he offends people, he wants it to be deliberate.

"You may call me Azumaya-ba, Tobirama-kun," Azumaya-san says very firmly after her own polite bow; "Izuna-bi, does the poor man not merit a haircut? He at least needs neatening up."

"I do not think Tobirama-kun would appreciate my wielding a blade around his throat, Azumaya-ba," Izuna says before Tobirama can formulate a suitable refusal.

The older lady sniffs. "Then he is fortunate that he's too young to need to shave daily; unless Senju men don't _need_ to shave like most Uchiha do?"

"Most Senju men are rather lacking in facial hair, Azumaya-san," Tōka volunteers.

"Azumaya- _ba_ , Senju-chan," the older lady says firmly. "I did not help my sisters raise twelve children and more grandchildren to be called 'san' by kin of my kin."

Formidable aunties are evidently rather universal.

"And if you will not submit to a haircut, Tobirama-kun, then you need to tie it back while you are working." Azumaya-ba nods firmly. "That shall be our first project: I will teach you to braid yourself a simple headband, then a selection of the various different types of braid as samples for you to reference later." She looks him up and down. "You are dressed for it at least; come, let us sit where the light is good. Izuna-bi, bring the stand and my bag."

Saburō silently flees with the bento boxes and other mealtime detritus before he can be identified and imposed upon; Tōka on the other hand settles in to spectate.

* * *

Tobirama isn't quite sure when Izuna vanishes, which is very impressive indeed. She does carry Tōka outside to play her kokyū on the engawa and 'give Azumaya-ba space to instruct' –which he is very grateful for– and then serve tea after Tobirama has been drilled on the names of all the parts of the cord-braiding stand and how to set it up, but she quietly disappears in between Tobirama producing his first flat linen cord in three shades of red –which Azumaya-ba immediately uses to tie his irritatingly long fringe back from his face– and her finishing up showing him a good fifty different braid patterns using brown, red, yellow, indigo, charcoal and white threads to make it easier for him to track the individual threads, some of the designs flat, some square and some round.

"I will come back next week," Azumaya-ba tells him as she brushes her kimono flat over her knees after getting to her feet, "and if you are progressing well I will tell Izuna-bi you can be trusted not to ruin good silk." Her face turns slyly conspiratorial. "You should make her obi cords."

Tobirama accepts the pat on his shoulder as he carefully folds the last of the short sample braids into the fan-folded washi provided for that purpose, head already spinning with ideas for how to exploit various different patterns for interesting colour effects. Azumaya-ba has not stinted: he has threads in white and two shades of indigo, as well as two browns, a red, a creamy yellow, three graded greys and a deep charcoal that is almost pure black. The resulting cords will enable him to wrap up the bundles of work clothing in his tansu more securely so they do not come unfolded, as well as give him a range of tasuki to tie back his sleeves with, more hair-cords –tying his fringe back like this is practical although likely rather odd-looking– and extra belts for his yukata and dōnuki, making dressing in all the required layers less challenging.

He will make a hair tie for Tōka first though; that way she can tie her hair up the way she likes it, even without her customary pins.

It is as he is planning his cousin's hair tie after Azumaya-ba has left, in fact, that he realises Izuna is no longer present.

"Tōka?"

"Yes, little cousin?" drifts in through the shōji as the idle tune outside stops.

"When did Izuna leave?"

The shōji is levered open and his cousin grins at him. "Well _somebody_ got engrossed, didn't they? I'd say, hm, well over an hour ago? Not that long after the second round of tea, anyway."

There had been a _second_ round of–? Tobirama racks his brain. Oh yes, he'd had a cup pushed into his hands in the early stages of Azumaya-ba showing him _all_ the different braid variations.

"Don't worry Tobi, I don't think she minded."

That's not the _point_ ; Izuna's mission is tomorrow, and Tobirama still doesn't know for sure if she's leaving this evening or tomorrow morning. All Izuna has said is that it's a longer mission, so she could be gone for as much as a week. And, well… now he's not completely focused on learning a new skill that seems appealingly within his capabilities, Saburō's words from earlier –confirming that Izuna's promiscuous reputation with women is more truth than hyperbole– are coming back to him and making him uneasy.

If Izuna truly _is_ the kind of person to lavish attention on a new conquest then leave them in the dust without a qualm when the next pretty face comes along, his chances of persuading her to relax her guard around him for long enough for him to get himself and Tōka out of here are worryingly slim. Izuna will bring gifts and laugh and flirt, but as time passes she will lose interest –possibly as soon as her desired pregnancy is confirmed– and then they will be stuck, left to languish here in monotonous captivity for the rest of their lives.

No, that is soaring hyperbole; once Izuna is pregnant, his family will know where he is. Loss of interest from Izuna might well be a good thing then, as it would make it easier for his clan to collude with the Uzumaki to get him out. It's still annoying though; Izuna has never _once_ showed that flirtatious side of herself to him over ten years on the battlefield and the inconsistency nags at him. All those rumours that he has so comprehensively ignored that he cannot even bring them to mind; what else has he missed?

"You okay there, Tobira?"

Tobirama focuses; Tōka has dragged herself backwards across the threshold of the shōji and is midway through carefully manhandling her legs around to the side. "Let me help," he offers instantly, getting to his feet and hurrying over. She is probably about halfway healed now, but that does not mean she should be any less careful. More careful in fact: if either bone rebreaks it will take much longer to heal again.

The sky is dark and overcast, but there is still no rain as yet. The wind is however getting up again and Tobirama can see a darker smudge under the clouds moving their way, so rain will likely be falling by sunset and continue through the night.

Once Tōka is properly indoors he closes the shōji and goes to fetch the lanterns; they have two of them now. It is in fact very dark indeed for late afternoon and will only get darker. At least it is warm though; even through his tabi and the tatami he can feel the heat rising off the floor.

Tobirama settles again by his braiding stand, taking up the white and indigo thread bobbins. "You said," he begins as he sets up the threads, knotting them and then making a loop to attach them to the weight, "that there were a lot of rumours and stories about Izuna."

He does not look up, but he can feel his cousin's eyes on him and her wary curiosity is clear through her chakra. "Stories and rumours which you've always ignored before now, Tobira."

"That was before Saburō clarified that my experiences with Izuna in the field were atypical," Tobirama says shortly, arranging the bobbins around the edge of the stool-shaped stand, the weight hanging down through the central hole in the 'seat'.

"Sure you don't want to ask your wife first?"

"She has a mission tomorrow and I don't know if she's coming back this evening at all."

Tōka sighs. "Very well then, little cousin. Just remember almost all of this is hearsay; I don't believe anybody with significant first-hand experience would have talked to a Senju, if only to avoid getting killed out of hand or tortured for more information."

Tobirama would protest, but certain clansmen _would_ do that if they thought they could get away with it and his father never censures them seriously enough to make it stop entirely. Just enough to make sure they know to be sneakier next time, so there is no _evidence_ of Senju wrongdoing.

"I've heard… a _lot_ of stories," Tōka begins as Tobirama settles on what kind of weave to use for the hair tie. A square one, for improved grip and to be sturdy. "Some of them are more fanciful than others, especially considering we now know Izuna's a woman, but a few of them are very definitely true. I didn't used to think the one about Izuna kicking a man out of his wife's house and publically singing a song about him being unfaithful in order to ruin him could _possibly_ be true, but that now seems much more plausible." She pauses. "Although the bit about Izuna seducing the wife after her husband had slunk off in disgrace is probably tacked on afterwards."

Tobirama pauses to make sure he's got the tension right. "What kind of stories are more usual?"

His cousin hums. "Izuna chatting up yūjo on street corners and in brothels, patronising oiran in pleasure quarters like Tanzaku-gai, charming geisha and maiko in tea houses, chatting up shop girls and buying them gifts; all kinds of things. There's a story about Izuna kissing every woman on Lily Street in Yanagi-machi on a dare two summers ago; I actually followed that one up when I was passing through during the cease-fire."

Tobirama carefully unwinds the mistake he's made and checks the tension again. "And?"

"I was extensively giggled at," Tōka says wryly, "and there was much coy fluttering of fans. But once a little money had changed hands with a senior madam she _did_ agree that 'a most charming young nobleman with a distinctive facial tattoo' had come through on Tanabata and paid every house on the street for a few minutes of each inhabitant's time. And a few women were paid for rather more than just a few minutes."

He's done those last few turns too tightly; Tobirama reverses his work, tugs gently on the weight then tries again.

"Beyond that… there's stories of sighing princesses and pining merchants' daughters, of Izuna getting seen climbing back walls of noblewomen's residences while their nobleman husbands were most _certainly_ away from home, and it feels like every street-food stand in the entire _country_ has a story of the Uchiha with the necklace tattoo buying a meal for some young woman or other and flirting all the while."

Tobirama feels he's getting a sense of this pattern now. "So there's a lot. Too much to dismiss."

"Very much so; it's your experience that was atypical, really," Tōka agrees. "But it never really mattered before, so I left it. I thought it might be deliberate, cultivating a positive image for the Uchiha clan to instil sympathy, but it's never any other Uchiha." She pauses. "Or if it is, they're using Izuna's face."

Tobirama glances up. "You think they might be?"

Tōka smiles lopsidedly at him. "I really _don't_ think Izuna's had the time to visit _all_ these places with a story over the past five years, no," she says dryly. "Not when she was fighting you in the field regularly and we now know that Uchiha medical treatment is well behind what we have. But since Izuna _is_ the one with the well-established flirty reputation, why _wouldn't_ another Uchiha use her face if on a mission where a little flirtation will help achieve the mission objective?"

"But enough of the early things _are_ true to make a solid foundation to build off," Tobirama finishes, unwinding more thread off the bobbins. "Like the willow-district story."

"Oh yes, that was _definitely_ Izuna," Tōka agrees. "That 'Izuna' had the same older Uchiha ambling after her that is still on her squad, the one with the neck scar."

"It still doesn't _fit_ ," Tobirama mutters as he continues the square braid. "Her whole clan seem to think it's amusing or endearing, not disgraceful or something that could easily be used against her. Her own _father_ doesn't seem to mind, given that he _does_ keep sending her out on missions rather than keeping her close except for the battlefield. Also there was that toast at the wedding party…" And he _is_ now certain it was Tajima, despite Tobirama _expecting_ the Uchiha Outer Army Head to behave more like his own father off the battlefield, not crack a _joke_ about his daughter having dragged an enemy home for sex.

"Well, if you _want_ to know you'll have to ask her," Tōka points out. "She'd probably even tell you. It's not like we can _do_ anything with the information from in here, is it?"

Tobirama does not _want_ to ask Izuna about this. He does not _want_ to have that conversation because it will reveal he was largely oblivious of her reputation, which was a _major_ lapse in judgement and would definitely have caused trouble later even if he _hadn't_ been abducted and coerced into marriage.

He turns the bobbins again; the hair tie is nearly long enough to be useful now.

"Look at me cousin." Tobirama looks up; Tōka is frowning at him. "Talk to her. I'm serious Tobirama; she'll be back this evening to comb your hair, so ask her then. You'll feel stupid if you spend the entire week fuming and it turns out we've both entirely missed the point."

"I'm not upset." This is _concerning_ , not upsetting.

His cousin raised her eyebrow at him, supremely unimpressed. "And the sky is currently yellow."

Tobirama opens his mouth to object, but there is a brilliant flash outside the shōji, followed a few seconds later by an almost deafening crack of thunder and the patter of rain on the roof. Another dazzling flash follows shortly after, so he gives up the conversation as a lost cause.

* * *

Izuna _does_ arrive after the evening meal, but by that point Tobirama is deeply irritated with his cousin. Tōka had loved her hair-tie and insisted on doing up her hair in an approximation of her usual style at _once_ , then asked him to help her complete a range of physical exercises to preserve more muscle tone. Which Tobirama had happily helped with, then happily brought her wash-water afterwards, only to realise as she closed the wall panels to rest before dinner that he had been tricked. Now Tōka is occupying the fusuma room –and will probably only open the panels to eat in company, not wanting to move at all– he has to stay in the tatami room, so cannot avoid talking to whoever brings dinner.

If he does not talk to Izuna, or at least _ask_ to be visited by Izuna tonight, Tōka will spend the next few days making his life _hellish._ He knows it; his cousin knows he knows it. She's done it before and doubtless will again.

So Tobirama grits his teeth and politely asks Saburō if Izuna will please visit later, then shares the meal with Tōka in furious silence at being so manipulated. Well, 'silence' given the rain is still beating on the roof, but there is no conversation.

Izuna's actual _arrival_ does not particularly improve his mood. He does not go to the door to greet her, instead staying in the tatami room and trying to comb his hair. Said hair is very clearly offended by his efforts, to snarl so defiantly in the face of his attempts to tame it.

"Might I offer my concubine my assistance?"

Tobirama does not look up, but does tug the comb out of his hair with a huff and hold it out to her. Izuna kneels beside him and takes it –yellow silk on the tatami shows she is wearing the same kimono from earlier but no hakama– then sets to work teasing apart the tangles. She is far more patient than he, and the steady scrape on his scalp is vaguely soothing.

He doesn't particularly _want_ to be soothed right now.

"What happened to the sakura branch in the vase?" She asks idly as she works on the back of his head.

"It was shedding blossoms, so I threw it out." The truth is that Tobirama had wanted to throw _something_ , and the branch had been the one thing that he could reasonably get away with. It had dropped exactly one petal, which had been sufficient excuse.

Izuna does not challenge his half-truth though, simply continuing to work her way across his scalp and smoothing out every last tangle.

"Is there anything else my concubine desires of me this evening?" She asks when she finally finishes, by which point Tobirama's irritation at his cousin had faded from a steady seethe to a more smothered annoyance.

"You have a reputation," he says steadily.

Izuna sets the comb down. "I really do," she agrees, tone faintly self-deprecating.

"I am just your concubine," Tobirama says flatly. "I can't expect anything from you." Izuna is hardly going to stop flirting her way through her missions just because he asks her to. And he won't ask, not when it is purely because the idea of it irritates him.

Izuna sighs, then leans forward to rest her cheek against his shoulder. "Do you want to know _why_ I flirt my way through missions with reckless abandon?" She asks quietly.

"Yes. Please." If she has a _reason_ then maybe he can resign himself to it.

"It's not a very _noble_ reason," Izuna murmurs. "I just don't like killing people. Or hurting people. Or even scaring them, most of the time. But I'm a genjutsu specialist; I had to be, starting in the field so young with reserves too modest for a ninjutsu specialist. My primary weapon is my mind, but to inflict horrors on others I must first subject myself to them. So instead I flirt, I tease, I charm and above all I _listen_. You'd be surprised how much you can learn with a free meal and a sympathetic ear."

Tobirama offers her a grudging grunt.

"I don't want to rip secrets out of people's minds, so instead I coax them out. I use flattery and a pinch of induced incautiousness, not fear, to bring forward the truth I need. Why do I need to break into a heavily-guarded office and murder hired guards to steal crooked accounting records when the perpetrator will spill all to pretty listening ears after a few cups of sake, and those pretty ears will tell me about it if I ask just right?"

"So all those women you supposedly seduce?"

Izuna huffs a laugh. "I pay attention to them. I listen. I take them seriously. And yes, I do flirt a little, but I talk to them because most missions may be paid for by men to do things to other men, but there are always women involved and they are far more likely to tell me the truth of the situation. The prostitutes know their regulars and those men's routines, the geisha know both their patrons and all that their patrons let slip when visiting, and who pays even a scrap of attention to the women serving them in a shop as they talk to a colleague? There is always far more to a mission than the client will admit, and knowing those additional details has _always_ opened up new and more effective resolution methods."

So Izuna is a _professional_ flirt. "And you mean absolutely nothing by any of it."

Izuna pauses. "Not _nothing_ , exactly," she says slowly. "Those women are all people, and not without value. But I do not give my heart. They may be _very_ taken indeed with me, but they do not _know_ me. They believe me to be a man, and that is a very poor premise to anything more significant than a casual flirtation. Some may throw their hearts after me, or at least after the idea of being taken from their home by a dashing young shinobi nobleman to spend the rest of their lives in comfort and security, but I can no more give them that than I can the moon."

"So you give them a pretty dream to sigh over and leave them all in the dust."

"Essentially." Izuna shrugs. "Better a broken heart than a yawning gap in the mind where an entire day has gone missing and anything might have happened, or a recurring nightmare of glowing demon-eyes and oversized spiders, or even actually being killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am extremely practiced at being a distraction; my squad has successfully completed _many_ missions while half the guards hired to protect our target were following me as I wandered across town with a lady on each arm."

Tobirama cannot _prove_ this is the truth, but it does fit much better with what he _personally_ knows of Izuna than Tōka's rumours. "You are soft-hearted."

Izuna chuckles quietly. "I can afford to be, can I not? My softness has killed nobody and saved many lives."

"Yet you have slain my kin without hesitation and left our clan without even remains to mourn over afterwards." Tobirama can see now that the destruction of the bodies of the dead is intended as another mercy, so the dead are freed from the risk of becoming a hungry ghost, but his clan have still be greatly harmed by that choice.

Izuna sighs and straightens up, meeting his eyes with a terribly tired gaze. "Would a single one of your clansmen paused in their assault had I flirted with them, Tobirama? Or would they have taken it as a taunt and become angrier? I cannot deflect hatred. So I make their deaths as swift and clean as I am able, for their sake and for the sake of my own kin."

His clan call Izuna the Cremator, for her habit of reducing to ash the bodies of those who fall fighting her. Never burned alive –that is more Madara's style, hence his being named the Conflagration, after one of the Three Buddhist Calamities– but once a warrior has fallen to wire, blade and genjutsu Izuna will abruptly switch to almost white-hot fire that utterly consumes the body in mere seconds.

"So am I forgiven?"

Tobirama glares at her, then looks away. "You don't need me to forgive you for being a successful shinobi."

"No, I don't," Izuna agrees, "but my reputation upsets you. I cannot promise to stop flirting when the mission requires it, but I can agree to moderate my behaviour so as not to bring shame upon my concubine through promiscuity, perceived or actual. I am after all married now and should act accordingly."

Tobirama ducks his head shortly. "If you prefer."

Izuna sighs. "I am not going to improve your mood this evening, am I."

Tobirama stiffens, then turns to look her full in the face. "You're not even going to _try?"_ She has been persistent in coaxing him into better moods thus far.

She shrugs. "What would it do except prove you right, that I _do_ flirt my way out of trouble whenever possible and it means nothing at all. You are upset over my reputation, because it diminishes your perceived value to me."

He is _not_ –

"And you have every right to be upset, because you are right: it _will_ get around that I have a concubine now, but those enamoured of my image and reputation will not stop throwing themselves at me. I have, after all, taken a _concubine_ not a wife," Izuna continues matter-of-factly. "So all I can do is promise not to shame you with my behaviour."

"So you're going to stop kissing every woman who flutters her eyelashes in your direction?"

Izuna chuckles. "Well, I promise to limit the kisses to their faces and hands, how about that?"

Tobirama instantly catches the implications there and feels his ears go red. He'd been abstractly aware that might be a possibility, but he still wasn't expecting her to throw it in his _face_. "Fine then."

Izuna places a hand over her heart and bows. "It's a promise then. Would you like me to leave now?"

Tobirama thinks about it. If he says yes, Izuna _will_ just leave. He can tell. But. He owes Tōka a great deal of retribution for pushing this conversation on him and also Izuna _is_ going to be away for several days.

"Do _I_ get some of those kisses you are now denying your admirers?" He demands provocatively.

Izuna's eyes darken and her chakra ripples. "If it would please my concubine to be so kissed, I would be delighted to indulge him."

"It would please me." The prospect of Izuna servicing _him_ rather than the other way around is… definitely something.

"Then if my concubine would allow me to remove his kimono, so I do not crumple it," Izuna says huskily, "I will then please him to the best of my abilities."

Tobirama should _not_ find that statement so thrilling. And yet.

It is very late when Izuna finally leaves, and Tobirama sleeps very restfully indeed afterwards.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More butchered music and a cliffhanger. I will continue updating twice weekly up to Christmas Eve.

Madara is quietly enjoying breakfast with Izuna –something he only gets to do about once a week now, with how much time she spends visiting the Diplomatic Quarters– when Father joins them and _immediately_ makes everything horribly uncomfortable.

"Why are you so trusting of your concubine?"

Madara does his very best not to cringe; it's evidently going to be one of _those_ mornings. He's witnessed these confrontations too many times before and never enjoys any of them; at least now he knows that interfering will only make things worse.

"Because trust begets trust, and trust also begets attachment," Izuna says calmly.

Father snorts. "You are attached already Izuna; if you give your heart to your enemy he will use it against you."

Izuna smiles, sharp and brittle. "As my kin do already?"

There is a violently silent pause. Izuna breaks it.

"I know Tobirama does not love me. But he appreciates that I allow him to keep his cousin close, and is grateful that I do not see fit to interrogate him on Senju secrets. He physically desires me, and he does not flinch from my hands even when he cannot see them. He likes and wears the clothing I have given him and with each gift and concession I win more ground. Yes, escape is still foremost in his mind, but he has chosen patience as his route to achieving it rather than daring."

"You think you can win him without also losing?" Father sounds scornful. "You are too much your mother's daughter for that."

"There is no victory without risk," Izuna says evenly, "and if I gave nothing, he would hold himself entirely aloof. But I give, and I tempt him with the promise of more if he gives in return. It has not been a month yet but already he has given me much."

"Such as?"

Izuna smiles; the soft expression has teeth. "That is between myself and my concubine; such things are not for public consumption."

"He will not love you when you cripple his cousin."

"That time has not yet come."

"How much are you hanging on the possibility of immediate conception, daughter?"

"Not that much." Izuna's smile turns secretive. "My odds are good; either my bleeding is _very_ late this moon or I have conceived."

Father snorts. "One month is nothing; if two days before Satsuki begins you are still gravid then I will write to the daimyo, but not before then."

"Three weeks," Izuna bows her head acceptingly. "Then you will write."

"If you are still with child."

"If I am," Izuna agrees serenely.

"I will not take you off the mission rotation before then."

"I expected no less from you, Father."

Madara wishes very much he could sink into the floor like the shinobi of Earth Country. This conversation is the _worst_. He's grateful Saburō is delivering breakfast to the Diplomatic Quarters and has missed it. He wishes _he_ could have missed it.

"Oh, you did not?" Father looks _amused_ of all things.

"You can always be trusted," Izuna says precisely, "to put the best interests of the wider clan before all else."

"I am a fortunate man, to have a daughter who so clearly understands her position."

Why does Father have to be _like this?_ Why does Izuna have to _stab him with words right back?_

"As my Lord-Father has delayed writing to the daimyo _again_ concerning my marriage despite my having acceded to his request that I inform him the moment I believe I have conceived, I ask in return that my Lord-Father grant equal delay to his demand that I maim my concubine's kin, regardless of her increasing physical fitness."

"Still holding out hope for that ceasefire?"

"I have faith," Izuna says coolly, "and being able to hand over Tōka-san, both as testament to our goodwill and to assure her kin of Tobirama's continued wellbeing, would be invaluable in securing us the high-ground should the ceasefire be broken later. We could inform the daimyo that we had acted in good faith to end the feud, as he has said many times that he would look favourably upon, and were utterly scorned despite our generous efforts."

His brother is always so _cold_ when arguing with their father. She never speaks of winning hearts, only of politics and economics and military strategy. Yes, Madara knows those are what their father responds best to, but that does not mean she should _omit_ the more emotive side! The Fatal Flower is niece to Butsuma, only daughter of Tokonoma, the Clan Head's next-oldest brother, and highly placed in the Senju hierarchy. Having her returned to them whole and unscathed will have as great an _emotional_ impact on _them_ as a political one on the daimyo!

Never mind how _completely delighted_ Hashirama will be by the news that Madara does, in fact, want there to be peace between their clans and is working to achieve it. Not that the two of them will ever be able to arrange so much as a ceasefire between them while their fathers rule –there is too much hatred and suffering between their respective parents for that– but there still is no shortage of groundwork to be done in making sure a ceasefire will hold for more than a year or two, to set the stage for true peace. Not that it would make that peace any _easier_ , but starting from an existing ceasefire would be less challenging than the alternatives.

Well, _Hashirama_ might think it is Madara doing the work; Izuna however has done all the heavy lifting so far, both with the wider clan and with their father. Madara is doing everything he can to support her and affirm her reasons to the Outguard, but it's slow going.

"You may have your additional three weeks' grace for the Fatal Flower, but if harm comes to the clan by her hands in that time _you_ will be paying for it, not her."

Izuna bows again. "I accept the judgement of the Outguard Head."

With that the argument ends, much to Madara's relief. Izuna will no doubt go and kneel in front of her completely empty altar for an hour or two after this, to regain her equilibrium, and then this whole mess will not be spoken of again until the next time Father doesn't think she's taking her responsibilities to the clan seriously. Which will hopefully not be for another month at _least._

* * *

Izuna throws herself off the cliff just in time to avoid colliding with the shinobi leaping across the ravine to join the fight, her squad tumbling down the sheer stone on either side of her. Mentor-Takao –Akira– Jakuchi– Yufu-plus-statue –everybody accounted for.

This mission is proving an absolute _bitch_.

They'd tracked down the corrupt priest who had stolen their clients' lucky cat statue –hired by a Grass Country temple of all things, because Uchiha are noble enough to be 'respectable' yet also by not being local don't have a stake in the rivalry this temple has with a _different_ temple at the other end of Grass Country that _also_ claim ownership of the cat statue– and found him berating his minions over allowing the covered ox-cart with its precious cargo to be stolen during the night. Asking the locals reveals the cart had taken the road towards the Kannabi Bridge into Earth, so Izuna had led her squad to give chase. It's not the most promising start to a mission she's ever had.

They'd found the ox-cart in the company of ten hired soldiers, presumably sent by some noble or other, trundling gently up the mountain road. Izuna had immediately directed her squad to assist her in genjutsu-ing everybody so that the statue could be strapped to Yufu's back –it was _massive_ , easily as tall as a six-year-old and much chunkier, never mind the sheer _weight_ from the gold– but before they could run back down the road Izuna sensed a dozen Earth-country shinobi advancing swiftly on them from the north, as well as a rabble of bandits poised around the next corner of the road. That was far too many people and factions to deal with –even though slaughtering bandits is relatively easy– so it was better to just avoid them all and hope they'd fight it out amongst themselves when the statue's absence was revealed.

With all this in mind, Izuna had led her Squad _south_ , not east; off the road and cross-country was harder-going, but a better place for a fight.

The bandits descended on the ox-cart almost the moment the Uchiha were off the road, the shinobi arriving at exactly the same moment and just in time to spot them leaving with the statue. So then Izuna had the dubious pleasure of a running battle through scrubby bushes up a hill and down the other side, outnumbered almost three-to-one because Yufu had to conserve her chakra to cart the solid gold giant cat statue around, limiting her jutsu use, and there were _twelve_ of the Earth shinobi.

At least it wasn't the clan who majored in explosions. Small mercies.

Either way, it took considerable effort and a dash of luck to incapacitate the lot of them –mostly killed, but that had been self-defence on the Uchiha side so Izuna couldn't regret it– and then a few bandits had popped over the top of the hill and _seen them_ so they'd had to run again, and casting her senses wider Izuna had realised that _another_ group of shinobi was headed their way now, _from_ the south.

Then she'd spotted the ravine, which led them to their current location: tumbling down it.

Bouncing off the narrow bottom –which was full of river– Izuna snares the first of their shinobi pursuers in a genjutsu –Rain Country mon; some nobleman's private force maybe– so that Yufu can snag him with her wire, then shatters the next one's attempt to genjutsu _her_ before cutting him in half with her sword.

Shinobi number three falls to Jakuchi's fire jutsu; number four loses his forearm followed by his head to Akira's sword after forcing her to dodge a blast of water.

Letting the current carry them along means that they are out of sight of their landing point very quickly; Izuna sighs in relief and rolls her shoulders. _Sixteen_ shinobi in one day is a bit much, even without the long run beforehand and the bandits halfway through. Not that the bandits had honestly been much of a _threat_ , but they were a major complication when there were rival shinobi to battle as well.

"Status?" She asks.

"Middling reserves, bruised head, scratched hands and a strained knee," Jakuchi says promptly. "Not serious, but I'm having to reinforce with chakra."

"This statue weighs a _lot_ and is ungainly as a pig," Yufu grumbles, "but reserves middling-high and superficial scratches on hands."

"Reserves high, scrape on my face and another on my arm," Akira volunteers, "and bruised knuckles."

"Middling reserves and no new injuries, but the mess behind my left shoulder is playing up," Takao-ji grudgingly admits. "It's limiting my mobility."

Izuna nods; she remembers that wound. "Slightly strained shoulder, reserves middling for me so high for standard, a few thorn-scratches on my jaw and a bruised foot." The perils of playing distraction are that she tends to accumulate minor injuries.

"Well, we've recovered the statue," Akira says brightly, "and this river evidently joins the one we crossed at the border, so we may well get the mission over with in time to sleep in an inn before we head down to Sand Country."

There's no set arrival time for the Sand Country mission; the lord hiring them wants a professional strategic opinion on something within the next two weeks, so Izuna is being sent because Madara can't be and her father sees no reason to do it himself.

The end of the ravine comes into view up ahead, the highland cutting off and the larger river plain spreading out ahead of them…

…along with a very _large_ force of armed, chakra-using monks, some of whom have spotted them and are pointing at the statue.

"Fuck," Izuna says, utterly heartfelt.

"North or south?" Jakuchi asks grimly.

"And which bank?" Takao adds.

"North and west bank," Izuna decides, quickly taking in the situation. "Make them come to us; I think those are trees in the foothills, not just bushes."

They run off the river, but not before the monks have started to give chase. This mission's just going from bad to worse.

* * *

The monks –who turn out to be from that _rival temple_ they were warned about– evidently have a trained sensor with them, because they have no trouble following Izuna's Squad up the river plain despite the trees, farmed fields, marshy patches and occasional back-tracking. Izuna therefore decides that they have to either run for the temple that hired them –unwise when the road is exposed and the monks will have distance attacks to make up for the lack of sneaky shinobi tactics– or make a stand somewhere that favours shinobi. Somewhere with poor footing, narrow access and with plenty of things to set on fire.

They find a nice rockfall at the base of the highland shelf, surrounded by stubby trees, and Izuna quickly sets up a camp circle to hide them. Sure enough, the monks stop following them like a particularly determined army of ants and split up into smaller groups, covering the surrounding area more evenly. They are even coordinated enough to make it look easy; clearly they are well-prepared for the hunt and their temple has sent enough monks to now be missing a good third of their overall numbers. Likely most of their chakra-using members at that; a sizeable and respectable force.

"Now what Izuna-sama?" Akira asks quietly.

"Now we eat and we wait," Izuna says quietly. If the monks just go away that would be the best possible outcome, but if not nightfall will favour them; her Squad numbers only five and there are easily fifty monks out there.

Let the monks search fruitlessly all afternoon, and by sunset they will be tired, irritated and keen to blame each-other over whose fault it is they cannot find a trace of the shinobi they were so close to catching before. Then, when they make camp –if they make camp, but Izuna thinks it more likely than their simply going back to their temple; they are too organised and too many for this to be anything other than a determined retrieval mission– the Squad can make their escape, right _through_ the camp for maximum confusion.

She would rather not have to use Susano-o here –it is far too visible a technique and strains her eyes badly– but against monks she may well have to. They tend to have particularly solid defensive techniques.

The afternoon is tense, but at least they have hot food for it. Her Squad are familiar now with the general oddity of a camp protection circle, which is a step to the left of being a storage fuuinjutsu as it takes the encircled area slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. This means that people can in fact walk _through_ them, or appear to, vanishing on one side of the circle and appearing on the other.

Izuna knows her fuuinjutsu applications are ridiculous, unlikely and downright impossible; however she _believes_ in them with the fervour of a saint, because it was faith that let Peter walk on water and with God _nothing_ is impossible. Not even protective circles vaguely inspired by legends from a different faith in another lifetime; she is not Lakshmana, but she learned from his example so her circles conceal as well as protect from all possible harm.

As evening draws near a group of monks congregate in their little clearing, all arguing with each-other. This reveals that along with several sensors they also have a means of tracking the statue _itself_ as soon as it leaves the precinct of their rival temple; the implication being that they've been waiting and preparing for this chance for _years_ , oh joy. A step removed from conventional reality or not, their divination _can_ still sense the Lucky Cat –Izuna can _hear_ the significance there– in this area.

Listening to the arguments proves very informative. The cat was the property of a very successful merchant, who upon his death left it to 'Grass Country's Honoured Monastery," perhaps not appreciating that Grass has _two_ such monasteries, one up near Waterfall and the other about a day's civilian travel from the eastern border with Rain. The northern monks got their hands on the statue first, and the southern ones have been disputing it ever since.

The statue supposedly grants good fortune to its owners, which does explain why so many people are very keen to steal it. And invest so much in the possibility of keeping it.

"Think it's really lucky, Izuna-bi?" Yufu asks quietly.

"I think that one man's good fortune is another man's ruin," Izuna replies, keeping her eyes on the monks in charge, who are now ordering their subordinates to set up camp along the side of the rockfall and beyond the copse of trees. "To win a farm in a game of chance another man must lose it; your fields not being crushed by hail means it has hit someone else."

"Luck goes both ways," Takao agrees.

"Besides, it's a _cat_ ," Izuna points out. "They're only lucky when they want to be. Let's get it back to its monks and wash our hands of it; all we've met so far after picking it up is one surprisingly unfortunate coincidence after another."

"True," Yufu concedes. "Well the monks can have their cat and be welcome to it; think the Cats back home would be willing to check us for curses afterwards?"

"We don't have to wait to get home; I'll get a village Cat to check us over," Izuna promises. All Uchiha have responsibilities to Cats, and all Cats have responsibilities to Uchiha; however most Cats choose to delegate said responsibilities to a minority who enjoy living in the general vicinity of Uchiha. Nevertheless, no Cat will refuse an appeal, especially not one so easily within their power.

"So what's the plan?" Jakuchi asks.

"We wait until the light starts to fade a bit," Izuna decides, "then I take the circle down and we split. Yufu, you will be joining Jakuchi and Akira in storming the command tent; they have some means of tracking the statue and I want it thoroughly trashed, but I think they'll be taken aback by the statue moving _towards_ them rather than away. I will be climbing the rockslide and openly attacking the camp from there, with Takao striking from shadow at every possible opportunity. Once you've trashed the command tent come back to us and we'll all run north together; it should be dark by then and they'll struggle." Sharingan allows for excellent night vision.

"I don't like you playing bait, Izuna-bi," her mentor says unhappily.

"If all else fails I'll pull out Susano-o and Jakuchi can carry me when we run," Izuna promises. "But monks are tricky –you _know_ they are– so we need me to be obvious so you can hit them from behind."

* * *

It does not go to plan. Not even slightly. Ducking a staff-blow aimed at her head, Izuna decides to blame the cat statue; that is after all what Cats _do_ , tripping you up by winding affectionately around your ankles as you carry something heavy into the kitchen.

The camping circle broke a good hour _before_ Izuna planned to lower it, which could _only_ have been done from the inside; proof enough really. The monks were instantly roused; Yufu and Jakuchi headed for the command tent immediately regardless, but Akira stayed behind to help Takao in picking off all the monks attacking Izuna, who quickly threw a genjutsu over herself so it looked like _she_ was carrying the cat.

Fifty against five is poor odds when less than fresh; she has to resort to Susano-o almost immediately just to prevent her half of the Squad from being overrun. She doesn't keep it up for very long –her eyes ache from even this much– and then it is back to wirework, distracting fireballs, subtle genjutsu and the sword.

Ten monks are dead though, so the odds are now eight to one rather than ten to one. Not bad for half a minute's work; she can cry herself to sleep on her mentor later, once they're safe.

Sharingan lets her dance across the battlefield, laughing all the while because it's laugh or scream at this point and the emotions have to go somewhere. It helps keeps the monks' attention on her, which is good, and means they have to work hard not to hit each-other as she darts among them. But they are very many and there is only one of her; she _cannot_ keep all of their attention on her for many moments longer. She _can't_ , it's not–

Her eyes ache, straining to change.

 _Shit_.

That's the problem with a new Mangekyō manifestation; nobody knows what it _does_. Izuna's fortunate to have aligned herself strongly enough to have _known_ upon awakening from her week-long almost-coma which kami she'd invoked; not everyone does. Not knowing limits the available training, but the meditation exercises are fairly standard regardless of Lineage and do help even when other details are lacking. _Knowing_ on the other hand makes it much easier to figure out the intricacies of the manifestation and achieve full mastery of the gift, thereby dramatically slowing down the process of going blind.

 _Eventual_ blindness is inevitable, and the lack of historical records of a particular manifestation mean she is groping in the dark in the pursuit of mastery.

Ama-no-Uzume, The Heavenly Alarming Female, The Great Persuader; a complex figure and a complex Mangekyō. Izuna had thought it was about 'look at me' but _this_ –

She trusts. It's all she can do at this point; either she trusts or those monks at the back are going to notice Yufu struggling to keep a genjutsu up over that damn interfering statue and Izuna will be _too damn far_ to help her.

Her eyes change, she sheathes her sword and throws shuriken instead, shouting "Come and dance with me, if you dare!"

They dare. More to the point, _every last monk_ is looking her way and her eyes somehow _don't_ ache; Izuna keeps dodging blows and laughing and throwing shuriken. Then she runs out of shuriken, ducks under a sweep aimed at her head and throws her own sandal in another monk's face.

Laughter breaks out among the monks, spontaneous and startled. Izuna's brain _fizzes_ in abrupt, horrifying enlightenment but she can't stop _now._ Quickly unfastening her sword belt, she kicks the nearest monk under the chin with her bare foot –his eyes are on her falling sword and he fails to defend himself in time to keep her from kicking his head off– then unfastens the front of her coat, Mangekyō blooming with cheerfully fulfilled glee.

 _I should sing_ , she thinks giddily as she uses the coat like a toreador's cape, then like a net over another monk's head as she kicks him in the balls hard enough to break his pelvis. There's more laughter around her; several of the monks further back have lowered their weapons to point and stare.

What to sing– "I'm into superstitions, black cats and cursèd dolls," Izuna sings, struggling not to break down laughing as manic hilarity bubbles up inside, overflowing out of her eyes as she twirls and unhooks a spaulder then uses it to stab a monk in the neck, "you feel a premonition; this one's going to make you fall!"

Vambrace unhooked and tossed high in the air; _every monk present_ looks up to follow it, allowing the rest of her squad to slit a dozen unsuspecting throats in those few seconds. "I'm into new sensations; new kicks–" her foot crushes a monk's ribcage "–in the candle-light; I've got a new addiction–" other vambrace peeled off and tossed behind her "–for every day and night!"

There's less than twenty monks left now and they're all far too busy laughing at her to pay a single scrap of attention to her bloody-handed Squad circling around behind them, knives bared. Izuna flicks off her remaining spaulder and smiles as she reaches for the straps holding her chestplate in place. "I'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain; I'll make you live my crazy life and I'll take away your pain; like a knife straight to your brain!"

The last monk drops; Takao yanks his own knife out of the man's eyesocket. "Izuna-bi," he demands, sleeves soaked to the elbow and _dripping_ scarlet, "what the _fuck?"_

Izuna grins sharply and tries to laugh; it's more of a sob. "Ama-no-Uzume and her fucking _striptease eyeball_ ," she says with aching hilarity. "People I want to target can't look away so long as I'm _undressing_ and I think I can bend the mood too; it's _persuasion_ not 'look at me'. They look because that's what I _want_ them to do."

Her mentor hugs her; it's too much and Izuna breaks down in tears on his shoulder.

"Akira, grab what she dropped; Jakuchi take point. We're taking this Cat-cursed statue back at _once_ and getting paid." Takao wraps a bloody hand around the back of her neck and rocks soothingly. "I've got you, foxling; let it all out."

"Going to have to rework my _entire_ fighting style," Izuna wails, clutching at her mentor's coat, "just to account for the fact I need to be able to _take things off easily!_ I'll have to stop wearing my _coat_ –I _love_ my coat– it's not _fair!"_

"We'll sort something out, foxling, I promise."

Izuna subsides into grateful tears, letting her mentor pick her up like a child. Yes, she's an adult and in charge, but sometimes she just needs to be able to _not_ be.

* * *

She has had her moment of tears, they are back on the road heading north to the temple and Izuna has blood between her toes, blood down the back of her neck, blood up inside her sleeves and all of their armour is going to need _thorough_ cleaning because the rest of her Squad are _all_ bloody almost to the armpits and that's not something a quick rinse in the river will fix. It helps, but can't change the fact they all have blood under their fingernails and need a private appointment with a washtub and a bar of soap.

And now there's _this priest_ , the one who set off this whole mission in the first place, making a scene in the middle of this village and _demanding_ they turn the statue over to him for 're-consecration' before it is 'properly and respectfully returned to its proper place.'

Izuna is tired. She has just killed at _least_ twenty-five monks, discovered her Mangekyō requires her to undress and _flaunt_ for full effectiveness –singing optional– she's spent all day either chasing the cat-damned statue or being chased because of it –it _sabotaged_ her camp-circle she _knows_ it did– and the sun is now setting and she wants to dump the cursed hunk of gold on the temple doorstep and get _paid_.

She reaches for her coat fastenings as the fraudulent priest starts to impugn her clan's honour and integrity by implying that if they _don't_ hand the statue over it is because they wish to steal it for themselves.

"Most honoured priest," she says, sweetly and with all the vitriol she can muster as her coat slides off her shoulders to the ground, "greed will set your bones on fire."

His agonised screaming is far more cathartic than it should be; the way his muscles are shrivelling and charring _from the inside_ is however vaguely alarming.

"Izuna-bi?" Jakuchi asks very quietly as Takao and Akira deal with the priest's thoroughly demoralised hangers-on.

"I made him believe me," Izuna replies, equally quietly as she picks her coat up again. "Truly believe me, right to his bones. His body is _convinced_ it is on fire, and is reacting accordingly." She should have realised she could do that. The kami don't do things by halves –just look at how excessive Susano-o is– and persuasion is fairly all-encompassing, depending on what a person is being persuaded of and how. "I don't think it would have worked if he _hadn't_ actually wanted to keep the statue though; he _knew_ he was being greedy."

"And you made him believe his greed would set him on fire." Jakuchi shakes his head in vaguely horrified admiration. "That's almost karmic."

"I am blaming this encounter on the statue," Izuna decides irritably. "Absolutely _everybody_ else who tried to steal it has died, either by killing each-other or being killed by us, so I'm inclined to think this hunk of metal really _is_ lucky. In that it can warp probabilities to benefit those it likes."

"All the more reason to hand it off as soon as possible," Takao says firmly as they form up again. "And then find somewhere to sleep _outside_ of its territory."

"Hear, hear," Yufu says tiredly, stretching her knees.

Izuna nods. "Agreed. We'll detour into Waterfall if we have to, even though that means it'll take us longer to get to Sand afterwards."

"Worth it," Jakuchi mutters as they set off into the deepening night.

* * *

Hashirama trudges miserably through the woods, eyes on his cousin Shibi's back. They are walking a patrol route at about half an hour's distance from the clan compound, enough distance for it to be a long walk but not so far that they are likely to encounter Uchiha squads unless they are really unlucky. Uchiha patrol groups don't travel this far –they tend to stay within hearing of the river bank– so this is mostly just being on guard against potential attacks. After all, with Tobirama absent–

– _gonegonegonegonegone_ –

–the Uchiha clan have a considerable advantage in the field. So Hashirama is on patrol duty.

Patrol duty is usually punishment duty for upper-ranked warriors, but Hashirama doesn't really care. He doesn't want to run missions and he can't just stay in the clan compound. Not when he keeps expecting his little brother to walk around a corner. Not when his feet keep taking him to Tobi's house – _not Tobi's house anymore_ – to drag his little brother to a missed meal or to socialise. It hurts too much to be there right now, so walking a patrol route is better than seeing reminders everywhere.

Tobirama's belongings were _supposed_ to be either put into storage if useful or sold if not, but Hashirama took a lot of them the night before the memorial and hid them in his wife's wing of the Clan Hall –a few more shelves of books and scrolls among all hers won't be noticed, their mother's inkstone he is keeping and the bonsai he'd given his brother is back with the others– and put his brother's clothes in his own wardrobe. That was over a week ago, now.

He doesn't have _anything_ left of his other brothers due to Senju traditions of selling or handing on what belongs to the dead, but something of Tobirama he can and will keep. He has taken the things Tobirama _cared_ about; the rest can go wherever.

The woods are quiet, but the trees are not. Trees change very slowly; he can feel the echo of a hard fight from last summer away to the west, the trees still recovering from the choking smoke that hung over the entire area for days as the fires slowly burned themselves out. More to the north-east is an open area that teems with new growth, courtesy of a winter battle that cleared a swathe a mile deep and killed six clansmen, three of them passing out from the heat and silently suffocating while laid out on the ground. They almost lost a further eight, but Ōka-ba and her fellow medics are very skilled at healing burns and clearing lungs, so long as the victim arrives alive.

Ōka-ba is still tending to those clansmen with broken backs courtesy of the Deathblow –broken but not dead like he'd feared when arriving last from the field to see them all laid out so still– but everybody else is mobile again. Mobile and _grieving_ –

Underfoot tree roots wail, dying slowly in the absence of the wider tree. Hashirama stops, blinking.

This is the most recent battlefield – _this is where he lost Tobi_ – and just one month on, the bravely flowering ground cover cannot disguise the violence and death echoing loudly all around him. Trees charred to nothing, their roots still gasping their last. Other trees reduced to stumps and spars, some trying desperately to put forth new growth, others rotting in place, too damaged to recover. The new growth he called up to fight Madara is a mess of tangled horizontal branches with leaves sprouting every-which-way and thin sharp saplings, ferociously vertical and the only things truly flourishing, narrow canopies flush with life.

Here he can feel the wind, a warm eastern breeze no doubt bringing more rain, light and teasing in his hair.

This morning he got up early to persuade the wisteria to give him blossoms for Hanamatsuri, then sat at the bottom of the trunk and _wept_ when he arrived to find Tobi wasn't waiting for him like his little brother _should_ have been. Tobirama is _always_ there on the morning of Hanamatsuri, awake early with cups of ama-cha to watch Hashirama try – _fail_ – to coax the ancient, twisted wisteria into giving him a spray of early blossom.

Not once since he was seven and first tried using mokuton on the tree has it _ever_ given him a single spray of flowers on Hanamatsuri. Hashirama still _tries_ every year though –he _has_ to! Their mother loved wisteria– and every year Tobirama arrives without fail to laugh at his abject failure, then later when they are decorating the altars his little brother produces a few wisteria sprays and jokes slyly about the tree hating him, tallying up another victory for it over him.

This morning Hashirama curled up under the twisted, stubborn branches and cried until his father came to tell him off for being unseemly. Then when he looked up he saw the grumpy old tree had flowered while he wasn't looking – _wasn't pushing it to obey him_ – and cried _more_ because every single blossom was white.

The tree misses Tobi _too_. Hashirama had burst into tears _again_ and his father, infuriated, assigned him patrol duty then and there.

There is a spray of white wisteria in Mito's celandon vase and a tiny cutting the tree let him wrap in soil and set aside to coax into a bonsai later, but now Hashirama is on the battlefield again, smoke in his eyes and lungs, terror in his heart and unable to run after his brother because Madara will not give him an inch.

Will not let him pass, because it is _Madara's_ brother who has stolen Tobirama and Madara loves his brother more than _anything_ , even peace.

Hashirama _could_ disengage. _Could_ chase after Izuna with Tobirama – _limp and so_ _ **still**_ _no please no_ – and the squad running at his heels. But that would mean abandoning the field to Madara's fury and he _can't_. He _can't_. Yes he loves Tobirama – _not his little brother, his last brother_ _ **please**_ – but he loves his clan _too_ and his brother would _never_ forgive him if he left their uncles and cousins and other kin to die.

Hashirama remains on the field. Hashirama holds Madara back, with earth and trees and a scroll full of weapons as his one-time friend breathes fire with the destructive abandon that prompted the Senju to name him after the Conflagration that will bring about the ending of the world. Hashirama coughs up soot and blood, feeling the slight chakra drain of his lung tissue regenerating in the face of so much ash and smoke suffocating him by inches. Hashirama lingers stubbornly as his kinsmen limp and are carried gradually from the field, through smoke and ash and sheets of searing flame, until Madara _finally_ falls back and smothers every single lingering spark on the Uchiha side of the field with a brief flex of chakra, leaving Hashirama to move earth and call up water to do likewise on his side, because the wind is in the north-west and if he does not, the abandoned fires will burn south and east towards the Senju compound.

The sun is setting as he stumbles home, heartsick and _desperate_ for news of Tobirama. Has he been rescued? Was he recovered? Where is Tōka?

Gone. Lost.

 _Taken_.

"Cousin?"

Hashirama blinks back to fresh green growth over scorched earth and the nervous hitch in his sixteen-year-old cousin's voice. "I'm fine, Shibi-kun," he reassures the teen with a bright grin, "just a bit distracted."

Shibi doesn't look particularly convinced. "We should turn back now, Hashirama-nii," he says, gnawing worriedly his lower lip. "We've come too far north as it is; I must have taken the wrong fork on the last path. We should be further south and east than this."

Hashirama dredges the new patrol routes up with considerable difficulty. "Yes, we need to backtrack," he agrees. Shibi's right; they've come too far north. _Much_ too far north; the patrol path his father presented two days ago is a good mile south of here. He turns arou–

–the trees _flinch_ –

– _Fire that Walks_ –

Hashirama spins back sharply, yanking Shibi behind him. Yes, there on the far side of the battlefield, red armour completely hidden by the dappled light under the spreading trees beyond the scarred field; it _is_ Madara. He wouldn't even have _noticed_ if it wasn't for the smaller saplings flinching from Madara's burning chakra, so strong it rises from his skin like smoke even when he does his best to suppress it.

"Madara!" He shouts.

The pattern of light on the forest floor _shifts_ as Madara emerges from the woods, shadows coalescing into unruly spikes of hair and ochre-red armour plates draped over indigo coat, pausing right at the very edge of the clearing. Shibi trembles in fear against Hashirama's spine.

"Hashirama."

His former friend's voice is deep and smooth –almost conciliatory– but right now all Hashirama can see is his brother being carried away –away to _die helpless and alone_ – and Madara is _in the way_.

"Madara," His voice cracks and Shibi quickly draws back and further away, "where _is_ my _brother?"_

Madara frowns –his face is clear now Hashirama is closer– then his eyes widen and he leaps high, drawing his gunbai from nowhere as he dodges east, into the wind and away from the thicket of razor-sharp urushi trees Hashirama had called up under him.

Shibi turns and _runs_ as Madara lands lightly on cleared ground and lifts a hand to his mouth; Hashirama spins and the twisted limbs sprawling across the open ground from the battle almost a month ago groan into animation. Then the whole world is fire.

Hashirama _screams_ , chakra over his skin blunting the heat as his tears dry to salt in a split-second.

"My _brother_ , Madara! My brother! _TOBIRAMA!"_


	11. Chapter 11

Tobirama kneels on the engawa in the spring sunshine wearing his expensive painted kimono, his heart in his throat as to the south a column of grey-black smoke rises high into the sky, billowing westwards and obscuring the sun in a yellowish haze.

This morning Madara arrived after breakfast with a large iron kettle, big enough for many cups of tea, to make Tobirama and Tōka ama-cha for Hanamatsuri. He placed a single richly pink peony in the empty vase on the tokonoma before filling the kettle with water and heating it skilfully between his hands, fire turned to warmth and comfort with quiet manners and great grace.

He and Tōka savoured that tea, cup after cup all the way until noon when it finally ran out and they sighed together over having to wait for Madara's return for more. They had even discussed how practiced Madara clearly was at making tea, if only so as to have something new to speculate about.

But how could he forget? Those hands that gently heated the kettle to boiling so the tea would be perfectly steeped have been the death of _dozens_ of his cousins. Have battled his brother to a standstill week after week for _years_ on end, and are unmistakeably doing so right now.

But today is not like those other days. Today is Hanamatsuri, his brother no doubt believes him dead –it has been _three weeks,_ and were he any normal prisoner he would hope to have died _long_ before now– and grief makes Hashirama… careless. It was in grief that he first befriended Madara on the river bank as a child, unthinking of consequences, and who knows what his brother will do now that he believes he has no more younger brothers _left_ to lose, and has lost the cousin who was more an older sister to them both as well.

If his brother dies, if _Tobirama_ is left as the only survivor of his siblings–

The smoke still billows. Tobirama has seen Madara crush a wildfire with a flex of his chakra; if it still burns, then his brother is still fighting.

The east wind blows his hair into his mouth; he shoves the loose strands back behind his ear.

They first noticed the smoke shortly before noon; it is now several hours past. Saburō brought lunch and announced to nobody in particular that several squads had been mobilised, but as the fight involved a single Senju against Madara –Hashirama was not _named_ but Tobirama is acutely grateful to the teen for even _that_ much– nobody else was involving themselves as yet.

With the Senju forces limited by his and Tōka's absence and the many broken bones the Deathblow had handed out stealing his cousin from the battlefield last month, it is most likely that his father will do as Tajima has in keeping reinforcements back from the ongoing fight, ready to step forward if more Uchiha advance to reinforce Madara but otherwise staying away.

Madara and Hashirama's fights are large, messy, intensely fast-moving and can be the death of anybody standing too close entirely by accident; the heat, the smoke and the dead air are almost more dangerous than the sheets of flame and the way the earth shakes in the wake of his brother's fast-growing trees.

The smoke column is drifting westwards; Madara will no doubt have taken up the easterly position, his back to the wind so it fans his attacks higher and forces Hashirama to retreat. It's why the Senju try to attack the Uchiha from the east when they can; that way the prevailing wind is against the Uchiha and Madara has to work much harder to keep his monstrously powerful fire jutsu from harming his own kin.

Although he has never seen an Uchiha keel over from smoke inhalation or gasp desperately as ash and soot choke their lungs, so evidently they have means to guard against such things. Tobirama does not know what such means might _be_ , but he has seen evidence enough to know that they work.

He grips the hair tie wrapped around his hands, fingertips white. He cannot _stand_ waiting, unable to sense beyond the boundaries of his tiny cage, and yet he would willingly wait _forever_ if it meant being _sure_ his brother yet _lived_ –

–is the smoke thinning?

Tobirama's gut sinks in dread; it _is_. No more black or grey billowing upwards in the distance, but only white and the lower edge of the rising column is thinning further with every second. The fight has ended; Madara has ended it, every flame smothered completely. Has his brother retreated, or–

He abruptly rises to his feet, walks through the open shōji –past Tōka who has bitten two fingernails bloody– and into the fusuma room, firmly closing the panels behind him.

He cannot _do_ anything, he cannot _leave_ this tiny prison to run after his brother and he cannot _sense_ as he usually does –his range stifled by his well-appointed cage– and lingering outside as the smoke slowly disperses will not grant him the answers he seeks.

It's a bright day; the light coming in through the carved transom panels is enough to clearly see the cleverly painted designs covering every single surface of the wooden walls enclosing him. It is a highly complex yet continuous scene, covering every panel from floor to honeycomb transom boards: mountainside to forest to lush jungle, to mangrove forest to deepening ocean under cloudy skies, then to rock-pools and steep cliffs leading to a grassy meadow under differently cloudy skies and then to forest leading back up the mountainside. Many different kinds of tree are identifiable by shape and colour, along with many other plants and flowers.

But in between the trees and flowers, nestled in the rocks and seaweeds, from between the billows of clouds and waves and tucked amongst the coral reef, in all the shadows and spaces, there are animals of every shape and type. Octopi, cuttlefish, five different types of shark and two-dozen different brightly-coloured fish gambol in the midst of the anemones and sponges, along with starfish, eels, sea-snakes and all manner of other oddities he has not actually seen or heard of before.

Likewise the skies over the seas are rife with gulls, terns, gannets, divers, shearwaters, kittiwakes, petrels, grebes and albatrosses, many of which he can only recognise from Mito's descriptions and his own visit to Uzushio last autumn. Somebody has gone to great effort to make these fusuma, both in the cunning artistry of the painting and carving of how the forms of scenery and wildlife interlock and in the meticulously faithful renditions of so many different animals and plants.

The mountainside reaches right up to the top of the two panels it dominates, snow dusted on the top with pikas, mountain goats and snow leopards hiding cunningly in the textures –one of the leopards has a spot pattern almost like Tōnari and he _misses_ her– then hamsters, hares, marmots, musk-deer, crane and ptarmigan hiding in the stretch of meadow between snowline and treeline. There is even a river curving down from the peak to the mangroves several panels over, cleverly shadowed with many different fish, frogs, newts, snails, crabs, otters, beavers, turtles and even an alligator lurking amongst the mangrove roots.

The fusuma, which on first glance are mere elegant scenery, are in fact _dizzyingly_ busy. Tobirama loses himself utterly in trying to identify as many animals and plants as possible, from mountain-top to sea-bed and all the many depicted levels in between.

How long did it take to _make_ these? There is not one single section that is simply background; even the _sky_ contains amusing patterns in the clouds, hinting at mythical beasts and kami in between the many, many birds that are so cleverly muted behind a light wash of bluish grey that to a casual glance they appear to be glimpses of sky.

* * *

Fire and cloves loom abruptly large to his chakra sense; Tobirama flinches back, then lunges forward to yank open the fusuma panels leading to the hall and front door.

Standing in the genkan, frozen half-slipping out of one sandal as he looks up at the sound of the panels crashing open, is Madara. He has a black eye, his hair far messier than this morning –it looks like an entire chunk is gone, the ends of a messy tuft trimmed a few finger-widths too short to tie back in that much thinner high tail– there are raised scratches up one cheekbone and he's leaning on one wall, as though he doesn't trust his balance right now.

His hand twinges. Glancing down, Tobirama sees the hair-tie wrapped around his fingers is cutting off blood-flow; he unwinds it. Hopefully the red marks will fade rather than bruise. He's frustratingly fragile and weak without chakra, but that is no excuse to do himself damage.

Madara awkwardly continues through the movements of removing his sandals –plain zōri, not at all field-wear– revealing bruised and scratched feet which are then hidden in house slippers. His brother's enemy then limps carefully forwards and up into the hallway, pausing face to face with where Tobirama is still staring at him from just inside the fusuma room.

He does not know what his face looks like right now. He doesn't _care_ what his face looks like right now. The _only_ thing he cares about is–

–he _can't_ ask. Not when he knows full well that person who gets to decide what he is told of the world beyond these prison walls is _Izuna_. Izuna, who is _away_ and won't be back for _days_ yet.

Madara is still looking at him, face contorting and twitching with more emotions that Tobirama cares to track. Tobirama stares back. He doesn't know what it is _exactly_ that the slightly taller man is wrestling with, but he's not going to make it easier for him.

Madara licks his lips. "Nobody of the Uchiha clan, or kin to the Uchiha clan, died today," he says carefully.

Tobirama sways, his relief so acute he almost bursts into tears. As Izuna's concubine he is now an Uchiha by law, so his own immediate kin are considered a degree removed from the clan. His brother _lives_ , and with Hashirama alive is _always_ enough. He bows, deep and fervently sincere.

"My thanks to Madara-san."

Madara's expression has twisted into an increasingly familiar awkward grimace by the time Tobirama straightens up. "You don't _owe_ me anything," the Uchiha Heir says, tone faintly pained. "I don't, I mean, I _care_ too. What your brother wants; I want that too."

Peace. Hashirama's fondest wish, his greatest dream, was for Madara to agree with him again so they could pursue peace together, like they'd wanted to do as children. Hashirama has spent the past _decade_ trying to come up with ways to convince Madara –and trying them out on Tobirama as test audience– and now it seems Madara does not need _convincing_ at all.

"How long?" He can't help asking, made incautious by the abrupt lifting of his fears.

Madara shrugs, the motion half-aborted with a wince. "Always. But memorising the legal code –Izuna said she gave you my copy– made it clear it was going to be _much_ harder than Hashirama's belief that simply allying our clans would be enough." He snorts wryly. "Listen to me, calling that 'simple.' But in comparison to the rest?" He sighs. "The Uchiha and Senju cannot ally as equals; our respective ranks make that legally impossible. So either the Senju crush the Uchiha and take possession of our lands, demanding our deference, or the Uchiha acquire the Senju as vassals. Either way, the victor then commands the most powerful and well-equipped army on the continent. And how would _you_ react, were you a leader of a clan or nation and one of two powerful warring factions in a foreign nation were to suddenly subjugate the other, combining their forces?"

Tobirama finds his mind swiftly running along the lines of how best to sabotage such an alliance so that it does not become a threat to the Senju, catches himself and glares. "So you think it's impossible." A pretty fantasy, desired but out of reach.

Madara shakes his head. "Not at all. Just, very challenging. Izuna once asked me how the clan could ever hope to benefit from peace when most of our craft and income is built on the assumption of war. He made a good point."

Tobirama is somewhat inured to Madara's persistent and idiosyncratic insistence on using male pronouns for Izuna, even though it does make conversation more confusing than it really needs to be at times. He is suddenly tired; _too_ tired for polite nothings.

"Why are you here?" Standing in this hallway, wearing a dull green cotton kimono printed with stylised pine branches in charcoal grey and a red-brown soft obi as though you are relaxing at home with family. Madara at least does not _smell_ of the battlefield, although Tobirama is honestly conflicted over whether that is an improvement on the possibility of being able to catch a hint of his brother's ever-pressing chakra clinging to Madara's person if the man in front of him had not bothered to bathe before visiting.

"I promised you and Tōka-san more ama-cha."

Tobirama stares. Madara has just spent _hours_ fighting Hashirama –presumably while taking care _not_ to kill him for once– and is still bruised, battered and visibly sore with startlingly low chakra levels compared to usual –if still within healthy levels for a normal warrior– yet has taken the time to not just come and inform Tobirama that his brother still lives, but to _make tea?_ Use up _more_ of his chakra on something so, so _frivolous_ as the whim of a pair of bored prisoners?

"Well, I won't stop you," he says shortly, "but if you pass out from chakra exhaustion on the tatami and I get accused of attempted murder I will be _very upset."_

Madara chuckles almost soundlessly, chakra rippling in time with the gentle huffs. "I will endeavour not to do so, Tobirama-san."

"Good." Tobirama glares at him. "Are you going to lead the way? You're blocking the hall."

"My apologies." Madara opens the shōji to his right and limps through; limps can be hard to judge unless the injury was witnessed, but Madara would not be so slow in his pacing and his steps would not be so short were he not in pain. A sprained knee and possibly a broken foot bone as well, Tobirama decides as he follows after. And the medics have just left him with all these injuries? Or has he not visited them at all yet? He has certainly had the _time_ to do so, given his freshly-washed state…

"Has my honoured brother-in-law not been examined by the medics yet?" He inquires dryly as Madara carefully picks up the large kettle standing in the corner by the jar of ama-cha.

Madara stills like a child caught pilfering sweets. "I could not bother Yori-san when she is so busy," he mumbles; "one of the apprentices checked me over to ensure I had no internal bleeding."

So yes, he _has_ evaded medical care thus far. Responsible enough perhaps to have himself checked for concussions and deep tissue injuries, but no more than that. The limp would have been a quick fix; that it has _not_ been resolved implies he may have deliberately hidden it.

Tobirama bows again, making sure this time it is faintly sarcastic. "Perhaps my most honoured brother-in-law might reassure me of his continued good health by permitting himself to be examined by Yori-san after he has fulfilled the obligation of the tea?"

Over in the corner Tōka relaxes visibly at this implied assurance that nothing catastrophic has taken place –he will fill her in on the details later– as Madara double-takes, then laughs loudly. "Very well Tobirama-san; when Yori-san tracks me down following her apprentice's report I will go to the door at _once_."

Tobirama takes the large kettle off him. "My thanks for your kind reassurances," he says with acid sweetness. "Please allow me to fill the kettle." He then turns and leaves with it as quickly as his kimono allows; with that limp Madara cannot follow him with any speed.

The amused shiver in Madara's chakra follows him all the way to the washroom.

* * *

"Madara! I know you're in there! Come out here and face me like a warrior!"

Tobirama sets his teacup aside and stands as Madara jerks out of his half-doze then winces, rolling his shoulder carefully. "Stay here," he says firmly, heading to the genkan. It may be the law that nobody can enter the Diplomatic Quarters without Izuna's express permission, but Yori _has_ been allowed in before now and Madara _definitely_ needs to be moving as little as possible until he's been properly healed. Evidently his marriage has saddled him with an idiot brother-in-law to go with his pre-existing idiot anija, and Izuna _must_ have known for years now that Hashirama and Madara are well-matched in foolish daydreams, for all that Madara is apparently attempting to do more than just dream.

Not that Tobirama is likely to be trusted with details of how the Uchiha clan are diversifying their income.

"Yori-san," he says, opening the front door.

The medic pauses. "Tobirama-san; has Madara-sama done his fool self further injury?"

"He's sitting on the floor, but given I'm fairly sure he broke his foot _and_ twisted his knee I don't think he should get up again," Tobirama says frankly, making sure to keep his voice down. This should stay private. "Would you please come in an examine him?"

Yori hesitates.

"Given I am inviting you _expressly_ to attend to the wellbeing of my honoured brother-in-law, I do not believe my Lord-Wife will object to your entry," Tobirama adds.

A measured nod. "I will inform Izuna-sama of your words, and my actions, upon her return," Yori says firmly, stepping over the threshold. Tobirama instantly backs up into the hall, then hurries into the tatami room.

"I _said_ to stay here!" He firmly pushes Madara back down onto the cushion he was trying to get up off. "Yori-san is coming _in_ ; I saw you limping and you _will_ have stiffened up after an hour sleeping sat up." Heating the large kettle until the water boiled had _definitely_ been one jutsu too far, not that Tobirama could have _stopped_ Madara when he was so ridiculously set on keeping his promise. It wasn't like he and Tōka wouldn't have _understood_ his choosing _not_ to, considering the afternoon they both knew he'd had.

Madara makes wary eye-contact; the bruising on his face is genuinely _spectacular_ now. "Yori-san doesn't have permission."

"Well _I_ believe Izuna-san _would_ give permission if she were here," Tobirama says daringly, "so _I_ have invited her inside."

Madara nods. "I will let my brother know when he returns."

Well that is two people telling Izuna what kind of guests her concubine has been illicitly entertaining in her absence, and Tobirama will be doing his _own_ telling, _thank you_. "Please do so," he retorts tartly as Yori makes her way across the tatami, settling himself back on his own floor cushion and picking up his ama-cha again.

Tōka watches all this with the general air of somebody memorising the occasion with an eye to using it to extort drinks out of people later; Tobirama ignores her. She is at least not offering a running commentary.

Yori settles briskly beside Madara, glare just _daring_ him to defy her; the Uchiha Heir wisely does not.

"Bruises, bruises, scrapes, cuts –at least you cleaned these out properly, Nantai _told me_ what you asked her about urushi trees– and what's this? Sprained knee, hip _and_ shoulder? What did he _do_ to you?"

"Tried to rip me in half," Madara says evenly, eyes on Tobirama. "Burned my arm free and batted him across the field like a shuttlecock."

Using that oversized gunbai of his as a hanetsuki paddle, Tobirama assumes. It is however a little alarming that Anija attempted to _rip Madara in half;_ that's very out-of-character and implies a distressing lack of self-preservation given he did so while close enough for Madara to hit him _back_.

"And your chakra levels…" Yori tsks. "Let me see your eyes." She moves a hand to press fingers against Madara's temples.

That medical jutsu is _definitely_ not the one Tobirama is _used_ to seeing, but it seems to work well enough; the faintly bloodshot cast to Madara's eyes fades, as does some of the swelling, revealing rather clearly that the bruising was not _all_ from the black eye Hashirama has inflicted. There is a self-damaging aspect to Uchiha sharingan techniques? Tobirama had not realised that. It seems a little counter-intuitive, in that Tobirama knows that activating sharingan is considered praise-worthy for Uchiha so why would anybody celebrate something damaging? Or is it that there are certain high-level techniques that strain the eyes?

"Well, it course be worse," Yori says eventually, moving her hand to poke Madara's chin and smooth away the scratches with a wisp of chakra. "There will _hopefully_ be no permanent damage, but I want to see you in a few days' time, just to make _sure_."

Madara nods. "Of course, Yori-san."

"And you have indeed broken a bone in your left foot, so watch out for that; it's not shifted out of place and I've begun the healing process, but it's going to be fragile for several weeks." Yori pauses. "And I _will_ be telling Shige-chan to stuff you full of fortifying greens as well as plenty of chicken and fish, so make sure to eat well."

The Uchiha Heir pouts plaintively. "No fried tofu?"

Yori lightly whacks his head. "Something to look forward to once you're recovered; I'm sure you have the means to bribe Shige-chan into making you inarizushi, but _later_."

Tobirama quietly files away what is evidently Madara's favourite food.

"There," Yori declares eventually. "Now you go home to bed at _once_ , or you'll be snoring on the floor here and Saburō-kun will make the _biggest_ fuss about having to carry you back to the hall." She pauses, a fox-grin lighting up her face. "Then again, please _do_ fall asleep here; I want to find out what Izuna-bi will say when she finds out you–"

"I'm going!" Madara interrupts hurriedly, clambering to his feet then yawning so widely his jaw cracks. "I'm going, I'll go right now and I'll get dinner from the Outguard Hall first, I promise," he adds.

"Are you _sure?"_ Yori teases, rising rather more gracefully to her feet. "I'm sure your sister wouldn't mind." A pause. "Too much."

Madara winces visibly and shudders; Tobirama thinks that Izuna would have _far_ too much fun with her brother accidentally staying the night with her concubine for Madara to _ever_ allow such to occur. "No, I'm leaving." He turns and bows politely to Tobirama. "My thanks for permitting me to impose for so long, Tobirama-san."

Tobirama gets to his feet and bows back. "It was no imposition," he demurs. "I trust you will be in better health by the morning." Hashirama will no doubt already be crashed out in bed after a large meal, body and chakra levels regenerating.

Madara hesitates, then his eyes abruptly light up red. Tobirama feels the genjutsu catch him but _can't stop it._ Can't reach his chakra, can't _move_ to resort to pain–

" _I reassured your brother that you lived, and were well,"_ flashes briefly across his mind, then Madara's eyes are dark again and the genjutsu is gone.

"Good evening, brother-in-law," Madara adds, bowing then leaving the room as Tobirama reels. Yori glances suspiciously back and forth between the two of them, then turns to briskly follow the Uchiha Heir out of the room, chakra intent. Likely intending to interrogate Madara the moment they are out of the front door, but Tobirama suspects this secret will _remain_ such.

"Tobira?" Tōka asks quietly once the Diplomatic Quarters are once more empty save for themselves.

"Madara told Anija I'm alive and well," he says, as quietly as he can. This is not something that is safe to be overheard; Madara resorting to genjutsu makes that much clear. Madara has _defied_ his father in revealing this; will this prompt their clan to try and infiltrate Uchiha grounds to verify his status? Or will his father write it off as Madara lying to get distract Hashirama?

"I don't think anybody else will believe that," his cousin points out, equally quietly.

"Probably not," Tobirama agrees, moving to pour them both the last of the ama-cha, "but _Anija_ will believe Madara." His older brother has always had a baffling faith in his Uchiha counterpart; Tobirama never thought he'd ever be _grateful_ to it.

Yet here he is. Enjoying tea at the mercy of the Uchiha, _knowing_ his brother knows he is alive.

* * *

It is three days after Hanamatsuri when Izuna returns in the midmorning, arriving in the garden of the Diplomatic Quarters with her squad hanging back behind the fence as Tobirama sits on the engawa with his braiding stand, to better enjoy the current warmth and beauty of the day.

Izuna does not look like somebody enjoying her day. The skin around her eyes is tight, the bangs hanging down around her face smell faintly of blood and the droop of her shoulders all betray that the mission has been one of those truly _miserable_ ones.

"I did buy you a gift, Treasure," his Lord-wife says softly, hands on the boards in front of his knees and leaning in, "but first I must report to my Lord-Father and he will no doubt demand a most _extensive_ run-down of events." She sighs heavily. "Ever have a mission where absolutely _everything_ goes horribly improbably wrong, yet you actually survived it so feel a bit ambivalent about complaining while also never wanting to think about it ever again?"

"Yes." Tobirama hopes he will never be coaxed into _describing_ said mission to Sea Country for Izuna, but yes he knows _exactly_ the kind of fiasco she means.

"Well, it went like _that_ ," Izuna says dolefully, "and then we had to go directly on to do something politely political."

Tobirama winces in sympathy.

Izuna bats her eyelashes at him with a hopeful smile. "Might my concubine bless me with a kiss, to fortify me against my father's inevitable amusement at my suffering?"

Tobirama rolls his eyes, but does lean down and catch her chin in one hand for a not-so-chaste kiss. "There," he says eventually, pulling back. "But please _bathe_ before returning, Lord-Wife." The blood-scent is a few days old, but she also smells like sour sweat, exhaustion, distress and old misery and none of it is particularly palatable. A river wash not getting all the stains out says that the coat has suffered through a bloody and hard-fought battle; a change for the second mission may well be hidden away in those Uchiha bags, but if they hadn't bothered to change then arriving in the blood of their enemies will have made an _impression_.

Izuna bows theatrically. "I so swear." She then bounds out of the garden, shoving the tall warrior with the scarred face when he says something evidently rather suggestive, given by how the one with the topknot breaks out in sniggers.

Tobirama goes back to his braiding. He has made a good number of cords over the past few days, using a range of the patterns provided and experimenting with different colours. It is, as Izuna promised, surprisingly easy now that he has grasped the basics of tension and how to interpret the patterns, and the results are very satisfying. He's not sufficiently practiced yet to allow his mind to wander while working, but he can tell he will get there soon enough.

The sun moves through the sky; Saburō eventually arrives with lunch –fish soup today, delightfully– and the news that Izuna's primary mission-interrogation is over.

"Nee-sama still has to report on the other mission, but that's going to take _way_ less time," he assures Tobirama earnestly. "I've _never_ known Otōsama take this long over a three-day mission, but Nee-sama said she was expecting it because everything went _spectacularly_ wrong." The teenager side-eyes them both over his soup. "Apparently the only thing missing was Senju."

Tobirama breathes an internal sigh of relief that the old blood he could smell in his wife's hair did _not_ belong to anybody he cares about and changes the subject. "Are you taking missions, Saburō-kun?" Uchiha ranking is _deeply_ idiosyncratic; as concubine to a Line Head, he actually _outranks_ Tajima's younger son, partly because Tajima is _not_ a Lineage Head.

No, the Head of the Line Tajima belongs to is _Izuna_ , for reasons as yet unspecified. And Madara _also_ outranks his father in the internal clan hierarchy. It makes no sense.

Mad, all of them.

Saburō nods. "Mostly contract verification so far, and some dispute resolution. Also guarding a trading party to the Inuzuka."

Straightforward things for a young teen taking his first steps into shinobi missions; Tobirama knows Saburō will be on a squad with four more experienced Uchiha clansmen, for whom this rotation will likely be a much-appreciated rest from battlefield duties as well as an opportunity to learn new skills and brush up on old ones. Perhaps it is coddling, but Tobirama suspects the Uchiha lose fewer teenagers than the Senju do. They certainly lose fewer pre-teens; the legal code makes it clear that the Uchiha firmly believe no pre-teens should be in the field at _all_.

Which does rather beg the question of why Madara and Izuna were in the field aged eleven and ten respectively; however Tobirama is _not_ about to ask. Given the timing –particularly what Izuna said about Senju assassins when she was nine– he suspects he wouldn't like the answer.

Saburō leaves; Tobirama spends the next half-hour carefully helping Tōka bend her knees as she grits her teeth against the pain. The bones _are_ healing, but they're not yet whole enough for her to put her weight on. Broken legs take much longer to be at a functional degree of repair than broken arms; Tobirama's own cracked wrist is still a little tender, but nowhere near as much as it was a week ago, and does not impede him in the slightest.

The effort leaves her weeping, from pain and frustration both, so Tobirama carries her to the washroom over his shoulder –a full month of no chakra and a daily effort to push his limits mean his muscles are finally adapting a little, though he is still terribly weak– and fills the bucket from the water he put in the sink right after lunch, which has warmed to tepid in that time. Then while his cousin bathes he airs out the fusuma room, makes sure his futon is rolled up and Tōka's is laid out, tidies up his braiding stand and the basket of books, unties the tasuki keeping his sleeves rolled up and carefully finger-combs the hanging ends of his hair over the back of his head, as much as he can.

It's only been a couple of weeks since he started using the hair salve Izuna bribed him into trying and his hair is already both softer and more manageable. How she knew it would _work_ is a question he definitely intends to ask, seeing as he has spent his life thus far suffering in ignorance but Izuna barely combed his hair _once_ then produced a solution.

The peony Madara put in the vase on the tokonoma is still blooming, the water new this morning, so Tobirama lays out the cushions, picks up the etiquette guide –which was what enabled him to persuade Saburō to start staying longer at lunchtimes two days ago; the teenager was delighted to explain his own lessons to an ignorant audience– and waits for his cousin to shout for him.

Izuna should not be too much longer now.

* * *

Izuna's arrival is heralded by conversation outside:

"–he'd do that, Izuna-bi, or I wouldn't have said anything," come the apologetic tones of the greying older warrior with the neck scar.

"It was going to happen anyway," Izuna's voice says tiredly. "I'm sorry he decided you were the bad influence, Yufu."

"At least it's sideways, not down." That's the nosy warrior with the topknot; apparently named Yufu, which could mean anything and provides absolutely zero insight into gender. Izuna is unlikely to be the only woman in the Outguard –well other than the Vengeful Ghost at least– but he has not seen enough of Izuna's squad to guess at genders, beyond the man who is probably around her father's age and the Uchiha with the burn scar, who had visible chin scruff.

"Yeah, we all know the 'bad influence' is Takao," the warrior with the burn scars says dryly, which gets a round of tired chuckles.

"So now what?" The young warrior with the forehead tattoo asks, audibly unhappy.

"Now we enjoy our downtime, such as it is, and when the Outguard Head assigns us Yufu's replacement we welcome whichever cousin it is and spend a few days training hard before the settling-in mission," Izuna says calmly, the authority in her tone unable to completely bury her exhaustion.

And with good reason, it seems; her father has removed someone from her squad at no notice and will be assigning somebody else to fill that position. No doubt the replacement will be no less competent –Tobirama has seen warriors from different Uchiha squads coalesce together into a seamless unit in no time at all on the battlefield– but Izuna's mission style is evidently rather atypical and there is likely an adjustment period.

Also, having somebody removed from your squad over what is being phrased as a disciplinary issue when no actual _wrongdoing_ has taken place would annoy anyone.

"Do I get to watch your concubine open his presents, since I'm leaving?" Yufu asks hopefully.

"That is _his_ choice, not mine," Izuna says, light but firm, "and if so, you will do so by my opening one of the shōji. I'm not inviting _any_ of you jokers inside."

Tobirama sets his book aside and gets to his feet. He's grateful for Izuna's defensiveness; he does not _want_ four strange warriors in here with him, all capable of doing him terrible harm and with their own secrets and histories he does not know. Izuna will not harm him when she wants things from him that harming him would prevent her from taking, Madara's actions earlier in the week made it clear he wants peace just as desperately as Hashirama does and Yori is a trusted medic who clearly puts her patients' wellbeing _first_. But these strangers? No.

"I'm home!" Izuna calls as she steps into the genkan.

"Welcome home!" Tobirama calls back as he enters the hallway to greet her. She is, as promised, freshly washed with her hair bundled up loosely on the back of her head, wearing a lattice-print kimono in pale tea brown with the printed pattern in two shades of red-brown: one cattail brown, the other red bean colour. There are also regular indigo highlights, which brings the design together and makes it more interesting. The obi –the first time Tobirama has seen Izuna in a proper wide women's obi– is spun silk in crayfish green printed with a well-spaced butterfly pattern in purple. The actual purple _dye_ is probably brighter than the print looks over the green, which is dulled down almost to another shade of brown.

Her tabi, however, are a delicate peach-pink that match the layer closest to her skin; he hadn't realised nagajuban came in that colour. She's also not the only one out of warrior indigo, but what her squad wear in their down-time does not particularly interest him; they're all wearing subdued yukata other than Izuna, so it's not like he's getting any further indications of gender from the change.

"How much of that did you hear?" Izuna asks.

"Enough to know they want to see whatever it is you've brought me this time," Tobirama replies. He's a little ambivalent; on the one hand, more people to talk to _would_ be rather nice. On the other, if they _want_ to see him open the contents of that decently-sized bag despite already knowing what's in there, it means they think he's going to react interestingly.

"It's entirely up to you," Izuna says frankly. "I think you would prefer them not to."

Tobirama bows, grateful for that admission. "Then I shall bow to my Lord-Wife's wisdom," he says, smirking at the chorus of complaints from the Uchiha still standing outside. "It is more clothing, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Suitable for me to be _seen_ in?" Tobirama persists. If she's brought him some kind of joke outfit that's really only appropriate for throwing at her head then he will also have to find some kind of way to bend the rules of the game they are playing.

"Entirely decent, appropriate and in colours that suit you, I promise," Izuna says lightly, eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. Tobirama takes that to mean it's _not_ something he would ever pick for himself, but cannot find fault with her other criteria.

"Then I will wear it tomorrow, and they can visit then," he concedes. A compromise he can live with; he can wear the outfit once, even if he never does again.

This prompts a wave of quiet cheers and a quick argument over _when_ they are coming over –Izuna decrees lunchtime, and that she and he at least will eat on the engawa– and then they are gone and he has relative privacy to open his latest gift in.

Given Izuna's warning, he is grateful that Tōka is napping.

"Would you like me to make tea?" Izuna asks as they arrive in the tatami room.

Tobirama thinks about it. "I am going to want an explanation, aren't I?" he divines. "Despite your assurances of decency and propriety."

"Very likely," Izuna agrees with aplomb, eyes still dancing.

"Then heat up the water, please; you can add the tea when I get to the last package and then I will have something to drink while you explain yourself." Tobirama had made the original demand for gifts as a power play; he can hardly complain when Izuna turns that back on him.

Izuna nods, produces the now-familiar iron teapot and stand plus gourd of water and sits on the floor cushion with its back to the shōji. Tobirama sinks gratefully onto the one which puts his back to the fusuma; usually he does not mind taking the seat which puts his back to places people could be, but then again he usually is capable of sensing _beyond_ the walls of his residence.

Izuna's foresight in insisting on privacy is rewarded with the very first package: it contains two cotton nagajuban. In _pink_.

Tobirama unfolds them, just to make sure that yes they _are_ nagajuban that will fit his shoulders –the fabric panels are indeed the proper width for a man– then eyeballs Izuna reproachfully.

Izuna smiles, sweet and naughty. "Nagajuban are not _only_ white, concubine mine."

Tobirama rapidly replays several conversations, places the quote and glares half-heartedly; so this has been in the works since the _first_ gift-giving. "My thanks to my Lord-Wife for her dedication to my education," he replies snidely. He has already committed to wearing these, but he will decide _later_ whether he is willing to do so more than once.

"You are _most_ welcome, Treasure," Izuna replies archly.

Tobirama has a sudden feeling of _profound_ foreboding. "It's _all_ pink, isn't it." It is not a question; he _knows_.

"Not all of it," Izuna replies mildly.

" _Mostly_ pink then," Tobirama amends with a huff. "Give me the next parcel; I want to get this over with."

Izuna's face settles into seriousness. "Tobirama, if you genuinely do not like what I have bought you, you are under absolutely no obligation _whatsoever_ to wear it. Regardless of what you promised my Squad."

That… helps. Tobirama feels his shoulders settle. "I have never worn anything pink before," he says measuredly, "but I will try these on, since you evidently think they will work on me, even if I then decide I don't want to wear them for tomorrow's lunch." At least it's not a peach-pink like _her_ tabi and nagajuban are; more of an ibis-wing pink, darker and with a hint of ochre.

Izuna nods, accepting his choice, and then hands him the next parcel. It contains a padded silk dōnuki in rich sappanwood, a red that is almost purple in shade, lined in the same ibis-pink as the dōnuki with a stitched-on collar in the delicate shade of pinkish-gold that gets called 'flesh,' punctuated with tiny printed forget-me-nots in the appropriate shade of blue. Included in the gift are six other collars, ranging from blood red to lapis blue through a delicate sakura-grey; all shades that will compliment and contrast attractively against medium pinks with warmer undertones.

Tobirama is actually grateful for the variety offered; some of these will also go well with the painted fish kimono. "How do I go about arranging to have a collar changed?" He asks.

"Put the dōnuki and desired collar in the top of the laundry basket and Maya-san will sort it out for the following morning," Izuna tells him.

Replacing a lightly stitched-on collar like this is actually the work of a moment, but Izuna is no more going to give him a sewing needle than she is a senbon, so there's no point in asking.

The next package is smaller; Tobirama opens it to reveal an obi. However it is _not_ a stiff obi, or even the kind of soft obi he could wear with a yukata. Instead it is a wide obi in a style that is usually worn by well-off women –or layabout lordlings with nothing better to do than wear silk– on informal occasions, over four metres long and made of two pieces of fabric stitched over a stiff inner layer. It's not immediately obvious however that it's two different pieces of fabric, because the basic damask pattern of ice-blue wavy stripes on sky blue matches perfectly. What makes the difference is that on one side the stripes are regularly enlivened by damask crabs in the same red-purple sappanwood shade as the dōnuki, dancing across the waves as though the obi is a beach as the tide is changing. There are also silk obi cords in coral red, which is still vaguely pink rather than a true red.

"Well, I will certainly _look_ the part of your concubine in this," Tobirama says dryly; he actually likes the crab-pattern somewhat despite himself. If this had been on a regular men's soft obi he might even have bought it unprompted to wear with his festival yukata. "Other than my hair, of course."

Izuna hums. "I _could_ grow your hair out for you, using the seal on your back and your own yang chakra. It would take a few days –it has to be slow so your hair doesn't grow out brittle– but you're already eating appropriately enough for it to be possible. Could get it all to mid-back length within the week; then you could decide how you want the ends trimmed and be able to watch me wield the blade."

That is _indecently_ tempting now that he is struggling less with combing and has a good supply of potential hair-ties. I'll consider it," Tobirama demurs weakly, already knowing he's going to agree.

Izuna nods, reaches out to touch the teapot then scoops a spoonful of leaves into it. It is the shincha; well at least he is getting the _best_ tea out of this.

The last package is kimono-shaped; Tobirama opens it with due caution. It is smooth silk in a pinkish orange dawn shade with a regular but faintly randomised shrimp resist-print in creamy white, outlines and details picked out in coral red. As pinks go it's not a terrible colour, and holding it against his wrist confirms that it will not make him look sickly or too pale; it also is lined in ibis-pink silk, making it clear that these garments are intended as a set.

Shrimp symbolise long life. Tobirama isn't entirely sure if that's a promise or a threat, given his current circumstances. But it's tasteful, the combination with the obi is subtly aesthetic and the sleeves are the right length and cut for a man. In terms of a counter-strike this is fairly mild, and the obi will also look good with his green kimono.

"I will try them on," he decides. "But first I would like tea."

"Of course," Izuna says warmly.


	12. Chapter 12

"I have absolutely no idea how to tie that obi," Tobirama opens with once he has his cup of tea, "and I don't think Tōka will either." His cousin's staunch avoidance of feminine things extends to fine clothing; the only time he's ever seen her in a proper hanging-sleeve kimono was at her twentieth birthday, when her mother dressed her up specially. Tōka had spent the entire afternoon looking horribly uncomfortable and barely daring to move. Sumi-ba at least had the sense not to try to force her daughter to wear cosmetics, or else his cousin might have bolted all the way to Uzushio.

Izuna nods acceptingly, cradling her own tea. "I don't mind tying it for you. Or if you are willing to allow a genjutsu, I can 'teach' you how." She smiles wryly. "I did not have many opportunities myself for learning to tie obi, so I used sharingan to memorise the various knots as they were demonstrated to me by those more practiced than I."

Tobirama hums noncommittally, his run-in with Madara's sharingan on Hanamatsuri still fresh in his mind. Yes, the associated revelation _had_ been welcome, but the sense-memory of fire, cloves and downy feathers coiling in his _brain_ still requires him to take a few deep breaths whenever it comes to mind. He has spent his entire life being reminded and cautioned of the horrors of the sharingan and its illusions; that is not something he can simply set aside in a few weeks, or even a few years.

"Is something the matter?"

Tobirama is reminded that Izuna is _exceedingly_ perceptive. "It's not a problem, truly."

Izuna's eyes narrow. "Somebody hurt you. While I was away." Her tone is steady and mild, but something dark and threatening lurks in her chakra. Something with _teeth_. "Who was it?"

"It wasn't on purpose, and I came to no actual harm," Tobirama says, then wonders why on _earth_ he is defending Madara. Izuna and her older brother being at odds would most certainly improve his clan's chances, as well as his own odds of entering more into Izuna's confidences.

"If you do not tell me who it was, how can I prevent this from happening again?" Izuna asks, voice still affable as anger rumbles in her chakra.

Tobirama opens his mouth and hesitates. It is true that he does _not_ want that to happen again. "Madara fought my brother on Hanamatsuri," he says instead.

"He told me," Izuna agrees, patient anger still _only_ perceptible through her chakra. "And he visited to make you tea afterwards, and you invited Yori in to heal him because he didn't get himself seen to first."

"Indeed." Tobirama inclines his head. "Before leaving he put a genjutsu on me, for just long enough to tell me that he had told my brother I was alive and well."

"While Yori was there, so she wouldn't hear him," Izuna deduces easily.

"Yes."

"But he did not _ask_ or offer warning."

"He did not."

Izuna frowns. "I will _talk_ to him on your behalf; he should not have done that without asking. You are not used to all the ways the Outguard use the sharingan in the practical everyday and he _knows_ that. He could have just told Yori to leave and spoken to you that way." The anger is still there, but it has quieted a little. Waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.

Tobirama shrugs; he isn't going to make excuses for Madara. It's already a little odd that Izuna is so offended on his behalf. Or is it that she sees him as _hers_ and will brook no interference there?

Izuna sips her tea, frown fading to a slight crease between her eyebrows. Tobirama sips his own tea; it is excellent and does help his nerves settle.

"You don't care that your brother told Anija," he notes.

Izuna snorts. "If I had my way, he'd have known already; I told my father last _week_ that I had probably conceived." She meets his eyes. "I have missed last month's bleeding entirely. But my Lord Father in his infinite wisdom decided that one missed month means nothing; he will write the letter of the last day of the month, if I am still pregnant at that point, but not before." She sounds bitter.

Uchiha Tajima, once more amending his given word; Tobirama feels a surge of impotent fury of his own. At least Hashirama knows now, even though the entire clan will be berating his brother as a fool for believing the words of his sworn enemy.

"However, given this unexpected shift in targets, he has agreed to not press further on the matter of Tōka's increasing mobility until after that."

That is a great weight off his mind; his cousin has a guaranteed two weeks, possibly longer, before the matter of amputation will be brought up again. He will have to let Tōka know. "Thank you, Izuna."

She smiles, the expression sharp-edged. "If I did not regularly call out my Lord Father on his various abuses of power, he would become truly unbearable in very short order. It would also not benefit the clan to be led by a high-handed despot; thus his concession."

Tobirama firmly shelves that entire sentence and its implications for _later,_ when he is not already juggling three different lines of inquiry he wants to follow up on. He can think on it later; he has no shortage of later. "So why pink?"

It is perhaps not the most _important_ of his questions, but it does lighten the mood. Izuna smiles over her tea, right up to her eyes:

"You immediate insistence that nagajuban are 'always white' piqued me," she admits shamelessly, "and I wished to poke you a little, in good fun. Then I saw the bolt of shrimp-print fabric at the market and well," she waves a hand, "the idea came together."

"Why such a large obi though?"

Izuna shrugs. "Half-width would not have shown off the crabs so pleasingly, and I will admit to wanting to see how you would look in it. I do have a shorter bolt of the plain wavy damask which I was planning on making up into a half-width obi if you decided you genuinely couldn't stand what I have given you, but if you are satisfied with what you have I will keep it back until summer and leave it unlined for you to wear with a gauze kimono."

The possibility of refusal sounds oh so reasonable when she phrases it like that, but Tobirama feels that the _implication_ is that refusing to wear the obi with its rather amusing crabs would be cowardice and that she is half-expecting him to prove her correct in her assumption there. "The crab damask is very charming," he says coolly. "I look forward to your showing me how to tie it properly."

"I'm glad you like it." Oh now she is _definitely_ teasing him a little; Tobirama decides to escalate.

"Will I get to see my Lord-Wife in a fine obi as well? Perhaps even a proper hairpiece?" So far all Izuna's hairstyles have been secured with well-hidden silk cords.

Izuna eyes him over her teacup. "Would it please my concubine to see me so attired?" She asks slyly.

"If my Lord-Wife will insist on schooling me in matters of dress, she should be properly attired for such," Tobirama says with a smirk, letting his eyes roam over her current garb. It _is_ a very nice silk kimono, but it is equally clearly intended for casual indoor wear and the obi is half-width and tied very simply.

Izuna's eyes narrow, but her chakra remains pleasant. "It is true that I should not hold my concubine to a higher standard than I maintain for myself," she admits, voice low and slightly drawling in way that says he has walked into a trap that will now be hitting him square in the face, "and now that my concubine is more familiar with the etiquette associated with his new position, I should _certainly_ set time aside to practice such things with him."

Tobirama feels a pang of impending doom.

"Are you familiar with the various seasonal Tea Ceremonies, Tobirama?" Izuna asks sweetly. "How practiced are you in being a good First Guest? Have you ever attended a chaji, or has it been just chakai until now? How practiced are you in hosting tea?"

Tobirama feels his mouth dry up, but narrows his eyes determinedly; he will _not_ be intimidated. He bows gracefully.

"Please honour me with your instruction. I am in your hands."

"I would be _delighted_ to take you in hand," Izuna says sweetly, eyes glinting as he stiffens and glares at her over the _very_ blatant innuendo. "But I feel your cousin will feel rather neglected if we lock her in the fusuma room or leave her on the engawa for hours on end while practicing."

Tobirama will _not_ tolerate an audience for this, not when Tōka's injury means she cannot properly participate in his suffering. Also he owes her a bad turn for tricking him into that very awkward conversation before Izuna's latest mission, _regardless_ of how well it turned out in the end. "I am sure she wouldn't mind if she were provided with more engaging reading material," he says a little wickedly, lowering his voice to a murmur. "Something more… _stimulating_ , perhaps."

Izuna laughs near-soundlessly, shaking so hard she has to put her teacup down. "You're _such_ a tease, Tobirama," she says eventually, voice still wobbling slightly. "That is _so_ tempting, you have no idea."

"I will very happily take _all_ the blame," Tobirama promises with a hopeful grin. "Please Izuna?"

"Oh fine, since you asked so nicely," Izuna relents, but Tobirama can see it's no hardship for her at all. "I'll find her something suitably _engaging_ to read, so she can exercise her imagination."

Tobirama smirks delightedly; oh that sounds _fantastic_. He vindictively contemplates Tōka's reaction to being given a sex book as Izuna pours another round of tea, then firmly takes himself back to his other pressing question; _most_ pressing in fact, now he has confirmation that she is very certainly in the early stages of pregnancy:

"Were you injured on your mission?"

Izuna shrugs a little negligently. "Not seriously. I did not seriously exhaust my chakra either, and my mentor made very certain that I got enough sleep by banning me from taking watch shifts."

'Not seriously' is a _long_ way from 'no'. "You _have_ seen Yori-san?" Tobirama persists; Tōka keeping both her feet and the chance of timely escape both hinge entirely on Izuna _still_ being pregnant at the end of the month. A stressful mission won't have helped her keep her pregnancy; if the body is stressed enough, it won't share its resources with the new life it is carrying.

Izuna nods, clearly unbothered by his pushing. "I saw her first, before giving my report."

"And she healed everything?"

Izuna sighs at him over her teacup, lips twitching up in a teasing smile. "Would you like me to undress for you, so you can check _personally_ that I am indeed entirely undamaged?"

Her words sear themselves across Tobirama's mind, complete with vivid imagery supplied by his own disobedient brain. He hastily sips his own tea to try and drown his abruptly insistent libido, but obscenity apparently floats.

Izuna, by the smug cast to her face, can read the direction his thoughts have taken right off his face. _Well then_.

"I would prefer to do the undressing myself," he says blandly. "Many injuries are invisible to the eye, but are revealed by touch."

Now it is _Izuna_ whose face betrays abrupt distraction. Tobirama smugly finishes his tea.

"Well," Izuna says after another sip of her own tea, voice low and oddly bemused, "if you truly do wish to make _sure_ , Treasure…"

Tobirama decides that actually yes, this _is_ what he would like to do with the rest of his afternoon; he has nothing but time, after all. He firmly sets his cup down on the tatami. "If I might begin?"

Izuna's eyes go wide and her hands tighten on her cup.

"No, don't get up," Tobirama adds, advancing on her across the tatami on his knees, "I want to be _sure."_

Kneeling upright he can loom over her, enjoying the darkness and heat growing in her eyes as he leans right into her body and slides both arms around her back to untie her obi, so close he can feel her breath on his face as she carefully sets her cup aside. The look on her face as he easily removes her obi and meticulously folds it up over her knees is utterly scorching, but she neither tries to stop him nor to take the initiative away from him.

Tobirama sets the tidily folded obi aside and decides to reward her patience, leaning forwards again. "Just lift up your legs a little so I can slide the silk out," he murmurs in her ear, then kisses her neck as she obediently does so; unwrapping her like this is _intensely_ thrilling and his blood is already hot under his skin. Carefully laying out the kimono on the tatami on his other side, Tobirama gently tugs the collar of her nagajuban askew to show more of her throat.

The bite-mark bruise is finally gone; he slides his fingertips over the pristine skin, feeling inexplicably disappointed.

"I got hit there," Izuna says, turning her head to meet his eyes.

"Careless," Tobirama chides, loosening her collar further to reveal her collarbones and a daring glimpse down her spine over her chest-wrap.

Her eyes lid, lashes drooping provocatively. "You'll have to give me a new one."

Tobirama's teeth itch; that is basically _permission_. "Later," he promises himself, leaning down to press a kiss to the nape of her neck as he unfastens the under-sash and sets about untying the collar cords of her nagajuban by touch. "Want to make _sure_ there's not a single mark on you before I add any new ones."

"Will you also be undressing?" She asks, voice hitching just a little. Tobirama presses his face into her throat, savouring the racing of her pulse.

"Maybe later," he teases as he pulls back, voice deep and deliberately smooth. "Once I've run my hands over absolutely _everywhere_ and made sure there's no wincing or flinching." He pauses thoughtfully. "And tasted too, to check for blood," he adds, enjoying how it makes her chakra clench as he removes her under-kimono. Chakra flows just under the skin and while most are blind to the subtle nuances there, he was easily able to read the second hers stilled in anticipation.

"Tease," Izuna accuses softly as he unties her corset and unwraps it from around her chest, leaving her naked from the waist up but entirely unashamed about it.

Tobirama grins down at her, putting all his anticipation and hungry intent into the expression. "You _like_ it," he points out confidently; the answering clench of her abdominal muscles forces him to breathe through the urge to just take his own clothes off and move straight to the main event.

 _Patience_.

"I think," he says as he catches one of her hands in his and begins to caress his way up her arm, "that I'd like to leave a nice bite-shaped bruise on your thigh this time. Your _inner_ thigh." He wants to coax her to her peak with mouth and fingers, then sink his teeth into tender flesh while she rides the crest of the wave.

Izuna lets out a very shaky sigh. "Be aware that doing so will mean I get a _lot_ of very _interested_ questions about our sex life when I use the clan baths," she warns him, which isn't a 'no.'

"I'm sure you'll field them gracefully," Tobirama teases, bending down to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"Do you not mind being a topic of womanly gossip, then?"

Tobirama lets his teeth scrape over her skin before glancing up to meet her eyes. "If my Lord-Wife wishes to boast of my sexual prowess, I would not dream of stopping her," he says wickedly. "Given how often my Lord-Wife is reduced to _desperate begging_ , it would be unfair of me to deny her _some_ victories."

"Ah!" Izuna presses her other hand over the middle of her chest. "So cruel! I am _struck_ , injured, _wounded_."

Tobirama licks a line up her forearm, enjoying the shiver of her skin under his tongue. "I'll kiss it better," he promises, nipping lightly at the tender bend of her elbow. "So _much_ better, you'll forget it ever hurt at all."

"Promises, promises."

Tobirama leans in to press a kiss to the top of her shoulder. "Have I ever _not_ kept my promises?" he asks, fingertip tracing a teasing line down the middle of her chest all the way to her belly button; her chakra flutters and all but _shudders_ in the wake of his touch.

"My concubine is indeed a man of his word," Izuna concedes, reaching out to glide her own fingertips over the shell of his ear; Tobirama shivers at the teasing caress. "But I would like to have the time to dress him before dinner."

"So I'm _slow_ , am I?" Tobirama grins toothily, letting go of her arm and moving around behind her. He's going to _enjoy_ making her regret saying that.

"That is _not_ what I –ah! _Tobira_ -uh-ah- _please_. _Tobirama."_

* * *

When Saburō arrives with dinner, Tobirama is sprawled smugly across the tatami, face-down on Izuna's lap as she combs his hair. He succumbed to temptation while drunk on the glee of having _again_ reduced Izuna to incoherent, shuddering, abject surrender, and as she clung to him in the aftermath he had admitted that yes, he would like to have his hair grown out. So now here he is, dressed in just one of his new nagajuban and the deep red dōnuki, laid out face-down on Izuna's lap as she combs his hair and does _something_ to the seal that runs the entire length of his spine; something that makes his scalp tingle under the pleasant pressure of the comb in her hand and sends oddly sensual shivers all the way down his back to pool in his abdomen, warm and vaguely soporific.

He ignores Saburō entirely on purpose as the teenager walks in through the genkan, pauses, then turns around and walks back out into the hall. Good, no disturbances; Tobirama vaguely notices that the teen doesn't immediately _leave_ , but it's not like that matters.

He's so comfortable. Tobirama doesn't remember ever feeling this good in his _life_ and there's no reason at all to do anything except bask in it. There's a warm buzz in his chest, more warmth rising up from under the tatami and Izuna's chakra is like morning sunshine on his back and face. He could…

Tobirama jerks awake to find the tatami room lit only by a single lantern, Izuna's fingers gently kneading his scalp and upper back and his own stomach growling.

"Don't worry, I kept your share of dinner warm for you."

Tobirama sits up, then pauses at the feel of _much_ more hair against the back of his neck than he was expecting. A long bang blocks out half his visual field, bouncing slightly.

His hair has _doubled_ in length. At _least_. He's seen Hashirama do that kind of thing after fights with Madara that burn off lopsided swathes of hair –so _vain_ Anija– but never experienced it for himself. His hair was messy enough without growing more of it out to tangle, so he has never minded having to trim it short. A cautiously raised hand reveals that each hair is strong and soft, and–

"My hair _curls?"_

Izuna coughs, amusement at his audible outrage clear in her chakra. "Just waves, for now at least. Would you like me to braid it against your head, just quickly, so you can eat without getting it in your mouth?"

"Yes. Please." Is _this_ why his hair has always been so unruly? Nobody _else_ at home has wavy hair…

Her confident fingertips sliding across his scalp as she forms the braids flat against his skull sends another faint wash of warmth through him; when exactly did her touch become _comforting_? At least the experience is soon over, so he can wrestle with his confusion and faint dread in the privacy of his own mind as she ties off the short braids just below his shoulders and then serves the food into two bowls.

Izuna has not eaten either; she _waited_ for him. He very intentionally chokes off that line of thought before it can run away with him.

Dinner is kenchin, a vegetable soup that seems to be an Uchiha clan staple along with noppe, miso and every possible variation on soba. It is indeed still warm; Tobirama eats it quietly, keeping a careful eye on Izuna throughout. She however doesn't seem to mind in the slightest that he fell asleep on her, or be even slightly inclined to take advantage of such to extort favours in return.

Then again, it's not like she _needs_ to resort to such if she wants anything from him.

"Given your hair's definite tendency towards curling, I think it would be best to grow it out to waist length," Izuna says once they have finished the food. "Then you can properly see how it behaves and decide how much you want trimming off the ends, while also having it long enough that I can sit to one side or in front of you as I wield the razor."

"Do you need to be present to supervise the process, or will it continue in your absence?" Tobirama asks cautiously. Waking up to abruptly longer hair was rather jarring, even though it has actually only grown about a hand's-width since Izuna started. It's still longer than he's ever had it before.

"Which would you prefer?"

Tobirama thinks about it. On the one hand, it happening overnight would mean less time until it was long enough to tie up. On the _other_ , it also promises to leave him with some truly _impressive_ knots to untangle.

Then again, Izuna _will_ be here in the morning to comb his hair; he won't have to lift a finger. "Overnight, please; I'd like to get it over with."

"It will probably not reach the right length until the day _after_ tomorrow," Izuna warns him. "It works based on you having eaten the right things to grow healthy hair, so if you don't have what it needs it will stop."

"That's still much less of a trial than having to wait over a week," Tobirama points out easily, extremely comfortable in this decision. Her squad getting changed around and what he overheard there imply that she'll be around on a daily basis for about a week anyway, so really this is very practical. "And you'll be here to help me with it, won't you?"

Izuna's chakra blooms with soft surprise. "Yes, I will," she agrees with a sweet smile. "You should probably use the hair salve daily while I'm doing this though, as your scalp oils won't be able to keep up."

"That's no trouble." It will only be a couple of days, after all.

* * *

"Tobi you look like there's a dead animal on your head."

Tobirama glares at his cousin and firmly reminds himself of Izuna's promise of embarrassing books to hit Tōka over the head with. "See if _you_ get hot wash-water today."

"Aw c'mon Tobira, don't be like that," Tōka coaxes with a lazy grin. "Be nice, you're going to get at _least_ an hour of cuddling with Izuna this morning as she tries to tame that mess, and that she's willing to even _try_ says you're really winning her over. Which," the grin darkens to a smirk, "you've always been the type to surpass expectations, haven't you little cousin? Why be average when you can be _exceptional?_ And Izuna's certainly enjoying your efforts."

Tobirama rolls his eyes at the innuendo. "She's pregnant," he says shortly, "but Tajima's decided she has to still be pregnant at the end of the month for it to be worth writing to the daimyo over."

"Well with you doing your _very best_ to ensure she keeps the baby, I'm sure she'll be just _fine_ ," Tōka teases, but there's a worried undercurrent in her body language.

"Izuna got him to delay discussing your mobility until then, seeing as he's gone back on the original arrangement," he adds.

His cousin breaths out, eyes closing briefly. "That _is_ a relief," she admits quietly. "Also, Tobi?"

"Yes?"

"What are you going to do when 'pregnant' becomes 'firstborn child'?"

Tobirama's eyes drop. He's… not been thinking about that. It reminds him of winter missions taken with only his leopards as company, where they filled the time talking about his mother's various childhood escapades and making the general assumption that one day he would have 'cubs' for them to dote on as well. He can't summon anymore; he might never summon again, and the leopards will never know what has happened to him. They will know he's not _dead_ , of course –the contract will ensure that– but the Diplomatic Quarters will _definitely_ be summons-proof, so they won't even be able to reverse-summon themselves to him.

He doesn't know if the Leopard Clan have any other summoners among the Hatake, but even if they do rescue from that quarter is very unlikely; the Hatake haven't been on speaking terms with the Senju since his mother died.

"Then Izuna will have a child," he says coldly. He can't _afford_ to get attached like that; he has Tōka to think of, and his own freedom. They both come before a child that doesn't even _exist_ yet and might never survive to be born. "I'm going to wash my hair."

"Tobira–"

Tobirama closes the fusuma on her plea; he _can't_ have that discussion right now. Maybe after he knows for sure their clan have been told he's alive and married to Izuna, but not _now._

* * *

Izuna arrives a little earlier than her usual, wearing a deceptively plain kimono in deep purple tied with a pale green obi embroidered with a rigid fan decorated with a peony-pink-and-white iris and a few ripples of water, right in the middle of the decorative drum knot at the back. Tobirama eyes the kimono; _that_ colour got a special mention in the etiquette book. Deep purple can only be worn by high-ranking kuge, so even though the kimono is modest and appropriate for daily wear, it still makes a statement. He can't read all the subtleties of dress yet, but he sees much more now than he used to.

Her obi cords are icy white and her hair is tied up with peony-pink silk, topped with a decorative comb complete with gold leaf and enamel irises.

Izuna does a slow spin for him once they are in the stone room. "Does my appearance meet with my concubine's approval?"

"Very fine," Tobirama agrees dryly, a little baffled at his own comfort with being dressed only in tabi, underwear and a persistently pink nagajuban, a towel draped over his shoulders to catch the drips from his very wild hair. The abrupt absence of self-consciousness is certainly _welcome_ , but he'd prefer a little more insight into where it might be coming _from_.

She grins mischievously at him. "Excellent! Then I shall dry your hair off so it does not drip and tie it back while I dress you, so you're comfortable when I give it my full attention."

Tobirama rather doubts he will be _comfortable_ while dressed up like a Girls' Day doll, but he does not say that. He agreed to this and while it is bound to feel a bit _odd_ , he does not think he will be actively _un-_ comfortable.

Getting dressed by Izuna is considerably easier than dressing himself, mostly because various clips and pins are produced from her sleeves to make holding everything in place easier, all of which he usually has to do without, relying on his various ties and braided cords. Also having an extra pair of hands to hold the pieces in place makes the whole process _much_ less challenging. Then finally, when he is fully dressed in the various layers and his kimono is all properly straight and tied in place, Izuna picks up the obi.

That her next move is to hang several soft sashes and cords over her arm is however _not_ promising.

"Welcome to the fine art of tying an aesthetic knot behind you own back!" Izuna chirps. "Now seeing as I am dressing _you,_ you get to skip the hard parts, but please note that when doing this single-handedly you have to do a lot of tying, untying and retying to make sure everything stays in the right places and is properly centred and level, all by touch."

Tobirama has never considered _that_ aspect of obi-tying before this moment. It sounds rather challenging.

"I am wearing a drum bow, which is as simple as it gets for a wide obi musubi yet still requires two different temporary sashes and a pad to keep the drum nice and plump," Izuna continues, "and is what my obi was designed to be worn with, hence the small pattern section and otherwise plain fabric. But you are getting a shellfish musubi, which will show off the brocade of your own obi better."

"How thematic," Tobirama comments dryly. Shrimp kimono, crab obi and now a shellfish knot; "I feel like a seafood dinner."

Izuna laughs. "Here, hold these for me." She hands him the coral obi cords. "Now stay still; being man-shaped means you can get away without an extra belt or a bustle sash to pad your waistline out, but on the other hand I'm not sure how that lack is going to affect things so if I pull too tight _tell me_ please."

"I will."

"Good; now let me see how this goes," Izuna mumbles, stepping in front of him and eyes going faintly blank. "Pattern is continuous, so there's no long or short end; fold in half, let the 'short end' hang over the shoulder then wrap twice around the waist." She does so, inserting a thin bent wooden board in the fold across his stomach before tugging carefully so the obi lies flat and evenly; oddly enough, the stiffness of the board gives him the flexibility to breathe while preserving the smooth lines of the silk.

"Next up, the knot," Izuna mutters, walking around behind him and flicking the folded length of kimono hanging over his shoulder backwards, then sets about tying and retying various cords and sashes around his waist, occasionally grabbing his hands and making him hold invisible-to-him things in place while regularly double-checking that his kimono is still hanging right.

"There," she says eventually, stepping back. "This obi's a bit longer than what's usual for this knot, but that just means I could use the extra end to pad it out so it's nice and plump. Pass me the obi cord?"

Tobirama hands it back, now intensely curious. He has purplish crabs dancing happily across his midsection, higher up than he's ever worn an obi before –if thankfully _lower_ than Izuna is wearing her own obi, relatively speaking– and the contrast with the kimono _is_ rather pleasing to the eye, the blue both setting off the soft orangey-pink and toning it down a bit.

The obi cord firmly tied and the ends tucked away, Izuna moves around in front of him to eye him critically. "Yes, that's good," she decides firmly; "Ohabari-oba will not mysteriously materialise to scold me for dressing you sloppily. Do you want to see?"

"Yes, please." It is Izuna, she asked and she has done this before; the prospect of looking into her sharingan does not make his stomach knot. Her eyes redden, her chakra unfolds behind his eyes and then Tobirama is presented with a faintly disorientating view of himself, first from the front then spun gently around so he can see his own back.

Ignoring the mess that is his hair, he looks… aesthetic. Izuna is right; it's a tidy and very crisp musubi, one he's probably overlooked various well-dressed ladies wearing around towns when he was on missions because they weren't offering him any kind of threat. As the genjutsu shatters to nothing Tobirama decides he doesn't actually _mind_ being seen like this by more than just Izuna:

"I do not mind your squad seeing me in this. Or Tōka," he adds humorously, "although I am sure she will be _much_ more annoying about it than your fellow warriors."

Izuna grins. "I'll have a shake-down mission with my new squad-member within the week, probably near a proper town," she reassures him, patting his arm, "and will be able to buy her a nice pillow-book as revenge."

A pillow-book? That is… several steps more sophisticated a vengeance than Tobirama was expecting; he _loves_ it.

"Shall we move to the tatami room, so I can tame your hair before Saburō arrives with breakfast?"

Tobirama nods, not bothering to try and hide the wide smirk still splitting his face. "That would be just _fine_."

* * *

Being crisply dressed in a new kimono with an obi tied in a complicated knot in the small of his back, Tobirama cannot just sprawl across the tatami while having his hair combed. He can't. No matter how much he rather would _like_ to. He has to settle with leaning sideways into Izuna as she gently works her way across his scalp with the comb, each steady scrape sending warmth spreading through him.

Tōka is idly plucking a tune on her kokyū; Tobirama made an effort to listen when she was starting, but after placing the tune as one of the ones from the kitsune wedding party –the one about it raining men, and he _really_ shouldn't have humoured her by singing it when she asked– he makes a point of blocking her out. It's not _that_ long until breakfast, after all.

His hair now _visibly_ curls; the loose twists bounce to just above his shoulders despite overall _length_ being at least half as long again. Izuna is meticulously twisting the curls together after combing out the tangles, which appears to be instilling something vaguely approaching order to his hair for the first time _ever_ , but Tobirama doesn't really care about that at present.

Well he maybe cares a _little_ about the fact that apparently he has _curls_ and never realised it. He's seen curls before –his mother's hair curled– but they were spirals that clung around his fingers, not these long loose twists that start above his ears and only finish a full turn when they brush the tops of his shoulders. But it's hard to get worked up when the comb and Izuna's gentle fingers in his hair feel so soothing.

Izuna's scent has changed slightly in the time between her leaving on her last mission and coming back; the various aspects of her chakra scent are still much the same –bar the ash, which he now knows is a result of her deliberately using Fire chakra to burn off the more feminine aspects of her _physical_ scent– but now the star anise is more prominent, as is the morning sunlight. The feathers have faded slightly in comparison, but more in the sense of there being _less_ than their being older or further away.

It might well be connected to the changes she's undergoing as her body becomes aware of her pregnancy and adjusts its priorities accordingly; Tobirama can't think of anything _else_ that would effect such a subtle but profound change in a person's chakra. It's deceptively soothing; it's just different _enough_ from the Izuna he knows from the battlefield, who has almost killed him more times than he cares to count, that she doesn't _feel_ threatening anymore. There was already a degree of dissonance there due to the dramatic change in _physical_ scent –which, Tobirama knows, is part of why he's both confident and comfortable being intimate with her– but now it's almost like his instincts have decided this _isn't_ the same person as the one who once threw an oil-bomb at him so as to set him on fire in a way water jutsu couldn't counter, then set his water jutsu on fire _as well_.

That had been an _awful_ fight.

They'd both been seventeen.

There's something about the shape of that thought that _niggles_ , dragging Tobirama out of his comfortable haze as he tries to nail it down. What is it about their _ages_ that–?

Saburō arrives in the genkan, crackling flames and liquorice root, and derails both his pursuit of the elusive thought and his enjoyment of having his hair combed. Straightening up, Tobirama glances at Izuna then shakes his head carefully; he feels something _bounce_.

A cautiously probing hand to the back of his head reveals a short tail of curls; the ones around his face can at least be expected to _stay put_ for a bit when he tucks them behind his ears.

"Do you like it?" Izuna asks.

"It'll do for today," Tobirama concedes, accepting his bowl of food.

Izuna mutters something that sounds like 'condemned by faint praise' –not a phrase he's ever heard before– as she accepts her own food, and then the meal is underway so there is no talking at all.

Tōka's eyes twinkle wickedly at him over her chopsticks; Tobirama scrupulously avoids eye-contact thereafter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another pop song, only slightly maimed. Also: it only counts as songfic if you have the full lyrics exactly as copyrighted, so I'm safe.

After breakfast Izuna asks about what he's been doing in her absence, so Tobirama gets to show off his collection of linen kumihimo cords, which turns into a conversation about favourite patterns, colour combinations and all the many, many things braided cords get used for. This leads through a discussion on samurai armour onto Izuna's own wardrobe, specifically the colours thereof and why; that discussion is interesting mostly for the history of sartorial legislation and how it intersects with aesthetics and commonly-accepted tone palettes to create something that is almost an entire visual language.

Tobirama wishes –again and pointlessly– that he could take notes. Instead he asks questions when he can, tries to etch the primary rules on his mind –he can have the fine details re-explained later– and fishes for as much detail of the colour schemes of his Lord-Wife's various outfits as he possibly can; he has not forgotten Azumaya-ba's suggestion of obi cords.

Sure enough, "I'll have a set of dye samples put together for you," Izuna says as she gets out the teapot, "so you can ask for specific things you want to work with. There're more than just a few people working with silk in-clan; that way nothing gets wasted and you get exactly the colour you ask for."

That will also give him a better grasp of the various colour names; he does know _some_ but definitely not all. He only recognised the sappanwood shade of the crabs on his new obi and dōnuki because the silk still carries a faint hint of the incense wood that was used for the dyeing, but a lot of the colours mentioned in this conversation he would struggle to distinguish between without first having them pointed out to him. Yes, most of the colours _are_ named for plants and natural objects which share their hue, but nature is considerably more variable than linguistic convention allows for. A colour reference will help him properly conceptualise this complex visual presentation, even if it's just in silk samples.

"That would be very practical," he agrees, sitting carefully and persistently aware of the large obi knot acting as counterweight for his posture. It is taking a little getting used to, but is unexpectedly less uncomfortable than he thought it would be. He could, in fact, get used to this. If he wanted to, and decided that learning to tie an aesthetic knot behind his back was a good use of his time. He has little _else_ but time, but that does not mean he should waste it.

Of course, describing it as 'a good use of his time' is deceptive; the real question is, will going along with Izuna's now-evident weakness for dressing him in lavishly impractical outfits get him any of the things he _wants?_ Being unthreateningly dressed is already bearing fruit elsewhere –he doesn't think he could have coaxed Saburō into revealing details of recent missions if he'd still been wearing warrior indigo, for instance– and he now has all manner of cords at his disposal which he could very easily use to do harm to others.

He won't of course –he has nowhere to escape _to_ – but that increased trust is a good foundation to build upon. Izuna _is_ pregnant now, so it is only a matter of time before his kin know of his situation, and he will need to be prepared for the possibility of rescue. Or at least for a more determined foray into Uchiha land to determine his status.

They won't know they need an Uzumaki Invocation specialist until he has seen or spoken to whoever manages to reach him, so his own escape is by necessity on a longer and slower timetable than Tōka's will have to be. She does at least have until the end of the month to baby her bones and work on her muscle tone, but beyond that he's not thinking about it too hard; it's stressful and upsetting when he doesn't have any solutions.

Izuna serves the tea; Tōka once again has hers on the engawa, taking the kokyū with her. She's now playing the 'heartbeat base' song, or trying to; mostly she's playing around with the rhythm and trying to find the right notes. His cousin's musical repertoire is now solidly expanded by both the wedding songs and those Izuna has sung since, which is why he's doing his best _not_ to think about the words.

"Do you want to talk about your terrible mission, or would you rather consign it to oblivion?" Tobirama asks as he cradles his cup.

Izuna groans whole-heartedly. "Oh I _wish_ I could consign it to oblivion, but my father has decided it serves as a fine example of ways a mission can go wrong, so I am not going to be allowed to do that," she says ruefully. "So I am instead going to have to make the effort to turn it into a funny story that I can laugh at in time."

"Then by all means," Tobirama waves his free hand invitingly, "please regale me with this litany of utter disaster."

Izuna eyes him. "You have to promise not to laugh," she warns.

"I promise I will do my best not to laugh at _you_ ," Tobirama offers.

"Fair enough." Izuna sighs. "So, we were hired to locate a stolen statue…"

* * *

"–and _then_ we ran into the priest who'd been the one to steal the statue in the first place and he tried to make us _give it to him_ ," Izuna concludes, her empty cup set down on the tatami as she gestures emphatically. "He got to the point of implying very clearly that _not_ giving him the statue could only mean we intended to _keep_ it –and we had an audience by that point– when I lost my temper and genjutsu'd him to think his bones were on fire."

Tobirama winces. That sounds _singularly_ unpleasant. Then again, the entire mission has _also_ sounded thus; Izuna and her squad had by this point fought four separate factions, been outnumbered between three and ten to one at all times during that and she'd confessed to resorting to the massive construct armour to fight off the small army of monks that had waylaid them. Tobirama _knows_ that's a chakra-heavy technique. In her position he'd probably have lost his temper as well.

"Which was, I assume, fatal?" He asks. Izuna's always been rather more creative than the usual Uchiha genjutsu user, going for more subtle sensory distortion than merely the visual. He has personally experienced losing all sensation in his legs –terrifying at the time– the impression of having stumbled into a patch of stinging vines –so realistically and plausibly painful it took him some time to realise it _was_ a genjutsu– a ringing in his ears he usually associates with head injuries, a viciously sudden loss of balance that actually made him vomit and a more insidiously subtle one that made him think he'd been cut on the head and was experiencing increasingly severe blood loss.

All _plausible_ things to have happened on a battlefield, rather than aiming for shock and disorientation by subjecting the victim to various brutal yet unlikely fates.

"His body couldn't make sense of what he was experiencing and his heart gave out, yes," Izuna agrees steadily, a raw pang shuddering through her chakra, "which enabled us to disperse the crowd and make the final leg of the trip to deliver the damn statue to its owner. And then find somewhere to sleep that was _not_ within fifty miles of the damned thing."

Having heard Izuna's rant on the so-called 'lucky' cat statue, Tobirama can't blame her squad for wanting to put some distance between themselves and it. Izuna's description of it _sabotaging her fuuinjutsu_ implies rather more sentience than he's comfortable associating with inanimate objects. The statue was malicious and intentional about it; the monks who hired Izuna to retrieve it for them are more than welcome to the thing.

"You did incredibly well getting your squad through that in one piece," he says, because it's nothing but the truth. Just listening to her talk about the battle with the monks had his heart in his throat despite his knowing they all survived it, because he _knows_ how much harder it is to fight when you also have to be looking out for weaker kinsmen. One shinobi alone may well be more vulnerable, but they also don't have to keep half an eye on those with them.

"Thanks Tobirama." Izuna doesn't look too happy though; she looks tired. "I do hate losing people."

Tobirama eyes her carefully, then decides to prod. They _are_ married, after all; he's _allowed_ to prod. "You're not happy though."

Izuna meets his eyes as she pours them both more tea. "No, I'm not."

"Will you tell me why?"

Izuna passes him his cup. "I don't like killing."

Tobirama considers this, remembers the last time she said it to him and puts that together with this mission, which sounds very much like it was a slaughterhouse. "You would have preferred to sneak away clean from the cart ambush, thereby avoiding killing anybody at all."

Izuna nods very precisely. "And the irritating thing is, without the damn statue poking at the probabilities and _trashing_ my fuuinjutsu? We likely could have _done_ that. But instead I got _used_ by a barely-sentient metal _lump_ as an avatar of extreme misfortune and I _don't like it_."

That… yes, Tobirama can sympathise with that. It is one thing to make the decision yourself, another to have your hand forced by something –or someone– you did not realise had an entirely different agenda to you until it was far too late. Looking at Izuna across the tatami, how her shoulders are tight and her chakra bubbles with quiet misery, Tobirama abruptly feels for her. She sees the mission as a failure, not because she has not achieved the required objective but because of the manner of her success.

He has had missions like that. They never quite sit right.

Tobirama sets his cup down and carefully shuffles around until he's right next to Izuna rather than at the third point of a circle, taking her both hands in one of his and telegraphing his intent to wrap his other arm around her shoulders.

She lets him.

"I am sorry you experienced that," he says quietly, wrapping his fingers gently around one of her wrists. Izuna makes a small, choked noise and turns into him, yanking a handkerchief out of her sleeve and burying her face in it as she rests her forehead against his shoulder. Tobirama adjusts his grip on her back so he can rub her shoulder, letting her twine her fingers with his other hand in his lap.

He doesn't say 'there, there,' or 'don't cry;' he always gets so _frustrated_ when Hashirama tries to do that; he's not crying because he _wants_ to, he's crying because he can't _stop_. He just rubs her shoulder with one hand and lets the thumb of his other hand rub soothingly across her knuckles.

No, he doesn't _like_ that she's crying, but this isn't something he can _fix_. It's done and gone and over; all he can do is be here while she cries, then offer up distractions afterwards. Like his leopards always do for him.

Did for him; Tobirama bends down over Izuna's hair and takes a deep, steadying breath through his nose, letting the physical scent of her hair and skin –lightly flavoured with the silk of the hair-cords and the lacquered wood of the comb– ground him.

Her tears don't last long, but after wiping her eyes she just leans more heavily into him, lifting her chin onto his shoulder and the hand in his lap onto his other shoulder, so Tobirama goes along with her and wraps both arms comfortably around her upper body. They can't do more than this, not with how restrictively dressed they both are, but this much is… very comfortable. Warm, steady and reassuring; he lets his own head sag to rest against hers, drifting in the feel of her presence as her breath glides gently over his neck and her pulse slows trustingly under his fingers.

"We should drink the tea," Izuna says eventually, not moving.

"It will have gone cold." Tobirama also makes no attempt to move.

"I can fix that," Izuna says, a ripple of something amused and faintly raw dancing through her chakra. She reaches out under his arm –Tobirama tries to quash the immediate disappointment of no longer having her fingers pressing on his shoulder– picks up his cup and gently channels chakra. Just into the tea, not the cup.

"Here, I think that's the right temperature." She holds it out to him; Tobirama takes it in his left hand, strangely unwilling to move his right arm from where it is coiled snugly around her back above her obi knot.

She stays leaning into him as she drinks her own tea, then sets the cup down again; Tobirama's tea is indeed at perfect drinking temperature, if a little stale from being left too long.

It's comfortable, to sit with her like this. Steady physical presence with no additional expectations. Something he does a lot with the leopards, especially in the winter months. Hashirama sometimes joins in too; he's a little calmer in winter, less insistent on being constantly on the move, so he's not terrible company on those days when Tobirama's happy discussing his latest scroll or prepared to talk about Itama and Kawarama.

Hashirama always seems to see the past in a rosy glow; Tobirama enjoys reminding him of how Itama put mud in their hakama _every time_ he felt he was being picked on and Kawarama was just starting to learn higher-level Lightning Manipulation and _delighted_ in shocking both of them to make their hair stand on end.

"Izuna?"

"Yes, Treasure?"

Tobirama could pretend the pet-name doesn't make him feel warm, but that would just make him more vulnerable to missing other ways he is becoming mildly emotionally compromised. "Your brothers, the ones you lost."

"Yes?" There's a wary edge to her voice, but he ignores that. He too would be wary of somebody opening a conversation like this.

"Did they ever do things that _utterly frustrated_ you?"

Izuna leans into him with a chuckle. "Oh yes. Yahiko –he was a year and a half younger than me– was _constantly_ stealing my doll for his own games, making it a kidnapping victim in need of rescue or an evil necromancer whose victims he had to battle. And Myōkō was _always_ wanting me to come and play with _him_ rather than whatever-it-was _I_ wanted to do, and if I didn't he would _scream_ and that was inevitably _my_ fault." She sighs. "They were terrible, both of them. I miss them so much."

"Kawarama was taught Lightning manipulation very young by our mother," Tobirama says quietly, "and he thought it was _hilarious_ to give the rest of us little shocks, to make our hair stand on end." Izuna huffs softly, mirth dancing through her chakra. "Itama _hated_ that he could never win a fight against Hashirama or me, so when he was angry with us for whatever reason he put mud in our clothes. He spent so _much_ time helping the clan vassals with the laundry, you have no idea. But he kept _on_ doing it."

"Little brothers," Izuna murmurs ruefully, so close her ear brushes his hair. "Can't strangle them when they're here, can't stop missing them when they're gone."

"Yes." She understands.

They're eventually disturbed by somebody knocking on the door. It's not quite noon yet –Saburō is very conscientious about timing and is rarely early– and Tobirama is suddenly and unpleasantly reminded of the only _other_ time somebody knocked at the door.

"Tobirama?"

"The last person to knock left the trapped bento boxes."

Izuna's chakra smoothes into deliberate, cultivated calm. "I shall do and see who it is." She leans in, kisses his cheek and then gets up; Tobirama immediately feels unreasonably bereft.

He sets about moving the teacups to sit beside the teapot and stacking the floor cushions over by the shōji, both to shake loose the ridiculous sense of abandonment and to get ready for the planned lunch on the engawa.

Izuna's chakra over in the genkan flickers in brief surprise; Tobirama pauses, but there's no further indication of anything wrong so he takes the time to straighten his kimono and smooth out the creases as best he can. It's a little tricky when wearing such a wide obi –it limits his movements in new ways he is not used to– but he manages well enough.

Izuna returns, chakra still calm but now with undercurrents that swirl with sorrow and something more complex than mere feeling. "It's just Yufu-kun," she says, "plus a kinsman in need of a song."

Tobirama pauses. "A song?" He asks cautiously. Yes, Izuna is without doubt extremely musical and has already admitted –and demonstrated– that she's liable to compose filth at short notice, but the idea of other Uchiha coming to her for songs is…

Izuna's smile does not reach her eyes, which become sad. "Tobirama. I'm sure you've noticed that Uchiha tends to have very _strong_ feelings." She nods, presumably in reaction to something in his face shifting. "Indeed. But that strength of feeling means we sometimes struggle to _process_ them. Singing can help, hence all the songs about things most people consider _profoundly_ inappropriate, but we also have other songs." She pauses. "Songs about loss and heartbreak and selfish fury at being rejected. But also many, many songs about grief and miserable incomprehension. But if none of those songs are enough…" She trails off.

So Yufu brought this new Uchiha to Izuna for help. Help with a loss or struggle that they can't put into words, can't work through but _need_ to so as not to be consumed by it. "Can you help?" Izuna certainly seems very practiced at pulling music out of thin air.

"I am going to try," Izuna says firmly. "Will you come out onto the engawa with me? The rest of my Squad will be here soon, so we may as well settle in for lunch."

* * *

Sitting down the engawa from Tōka, far enough for privacy but not so far his cousin won't be able to join in with the group lunch later, Izuna leans in to listen to the hollow-eyed young warrior Yufu is hovering worriedly behind. Tobirama also listens; he has to really concentrate, but the man –and it is definitely a man, his coat is undone and the knot in his throat is clearly visible– is not making any particular effort to keep his voice down.

"–ecided his father's money meant more to him than I did, Izuna-sama, and he was willing to go through with an arranged marriage to a woman he knows will never move him if that's what it takes."

He sounds empty. Hollowed out and only faintly tinged with grief, as though all of his being has been abandoned somewhere along the road to getting to where he now is.

"My condolences on your loss," Izuna says, quiet and gentle and utterly sincere.

The younger warrior shakes his head. "Not mine. Never mine, if this is the choice he made _knowing_ I loved him."

Izuna bows, acknowledging his words. "I have a song for Nukabira-kun, if he will hear it."

"As you will, Izuna-sama."

Izuna closes her eyes and sways, one hand dropping to tap fingertips against the wood she is kneeling on.

"It's a good thing tears never show in the pouring rain," she begins, sweet and steady with a clear, simple tune, "as if a good thing could ever make up for all the pain; there'll be no last chance or promise to never mess it up again, just the sweet pain of watching your back as you walk, as I'm watching you walk away."

Uchiha Nukabira sways alarmingly.

"And now you're gone there's like an echo in my head," Izuna goes on, louder, higher and more urgent, "and I remember every word you said; it's a cruel thing you'll never know all the ways I tried; it's a hard thing faking a smile when I feel like I'm falling apart inside–"

The young man moans, chakra swirling fierily around him.

"–and now you're gone there's like an echo in my head, and I remember every word you said: that you _never were and never will be mine_."

The flash of pain expanding through chakra is so sudden Tobirama jerks forward, eyes darting this way and that in search of the weapon that _must_ have just run the warrior through. Nukabira collapses bonelessly –Yufu catches him and lowers him to the path– and shivers, entire body racked with terrible, sudden agony as Izuna sings on, eyes firmly closed:

"No you _never_ were and you _never_ will be mine." There's a pause in the song, the only sounds Izuna's tapping and Nukabira's desperate sobs into Yufu's knees. "For the first time there is no mercy in your eyes. And the cold wind's hitting my face and you're gone, and you're walking away. And now I'm helpless; sometimes wishing is just no good, as you don't see me like I wish you would. Since you never were and you never will be mine. No you _never_ were and you _never_ will be mine," her voice _soars_. "There's a moment to seize every time that we meet but you always keep passing me by; no you _never_ were and you _never_ will be mine!"

There's no emptiness in Nukabira's chakra anymore; he is entirely present and in so much pain Tobirama can't _stop_ looking for injuries. How can a person be in _this much_ pain without having anything to show for it?

"That's a hard, hard song, Izuna-bi," somebody says quietly. Tobirama looks up to see the rest of Izuna's Squad lined up at the boundary fence, bento boxes hanging from wrists and fingers and faces twisted in an array of expressions from profound concern through awkward unease to distant knowing.

"Some truths are more difficult than others, Takao-ji," Izuna says quietly. "Do come into the garden; is there food for Yufu?"

The grey-haired warrior nods, casually vaulting the fence. "And for Nukabira-kun, if his stomach can face it later."

"I'm not asking where you found that one, Izuna-bi," the warrior with the burn scar says hoarsely, shaking his head as he settles on a mossy heap of rocks. "You've never given your heart away; how can you still know _exactly_ how much it aches to have it thrown back in your face, even just for a moment?"

"Pain and loss are all the same," Izuna replies, quietly accepting the larger bento box from grey-haired Takao and turning to face Tobirama and Tōka before opening it, revealing layers of curry and rice as well as a set of bowls. "I will never forget my brother's lifeblood staining our futon; he broke my heart dying as he did."

To Senju assassins, Tobirama remembers.

He silently accepts the offered bowl, passing it and the chopsticks on to Tōka and keeping the next one for himself. The curry has a different range of spices to what he's used to, but it's not too fiery and is full of vegetables and fried tofu rather than meat. Glancing around, he sees that the warriors perched around the garden have already started eating so does likewise as Izuna serves herself and sets the bento boxes aside.

They eat silently, the only sounds Nukabira's heartbroken sobbing and more distant birdsong. Yufu waves off food in favour of comforting her kinsman –friend? New squad member? Tobirama has no idea– but the other three warriors eat swiftly and neatly.

Never in his _life_ has Tobirama ever eaten a meal to the sound of somebody's grieving. Never has he just seen it lived _around,_ as though collapsing to the ground and weeping publically is just something that happens sometimes, so not worth delaying the meal over. That nobody seems to feel the need to give Nukabira privacy, or even move him to somewhere more private, is very jarring.

And yet. This is evidently the _desired_ outcome of Yufu bringing the younger man here to ask for a song. Yufu knew the rest of the squad would be arriving shortly with the meal, yet _still_ felt it was appropriate to ask Izuna for this favour, knowing this was a real possibility.

Izuna's matter-of-fact description of the depth and strength of feeling Uchiha experience and how her clansmen can occasionally need help dealing with them makes it clear she's done this before and considers this normal. Her squad's behaviour suggests they _also_ feel this is normal, which might possibly be an adjustment to something uniquely Izuna, but going by Nukabira's own matter-of-fact acceptance of the process could equally be a clan-wide foible.

Tobirama is leaning towards 'clan-wide foible' right now, as the sheer acceptance from all parties present –bar Tōka behind him, who is just as uncomfortable as he is– is a little too unconscious to be anything but trained from birth.

He does not know how he feels about this. So he will endure, and think about it in more detail later. He knows Hashirama will have grieved over his absence and believed loss, but his father will have mourned privately so as not to let the clan see his weakness. Father would also have admonished Anija if he ever _caught_ him weeping in public, but at least now Hashirama knows he's alive. That will have to do.

* * *

"So what are you going to do to the family who hurt your clansman?" Tobirama asks after lunch is over and his new outfit has been duly admired by all Uchiha present, including a cried-out Nukabira who had shyly and croakily pronounced him to be 'very lovely to look at.'

Izuna glances up at him from where she is tidying the remnants of the tea into her fuuinjutsu bag. "What makes you think I am going to do anything?"

Tobirama gives that disingenuous inquiry the withering scorn it deserves. "They hurt your clansmen," he says flatly, "and I _know_ you." Knows her better now, after a month in close quarters and seeing her with her kinsmen; she won't kill the people who did this, but they _will_ suffer for it.

Izuna smirks at him, small and conspiratorial. "I know the name of the young man in question," she says lightly, "and his father is a merchant. However if said father is so _very_ against Uchiha as to threaten his firstborn with disownment if he accepts the suit of one of my kin and therefore spurns the connections that adoption into a noble clan would grant, the clan should _respect_ that. So I will talk to the relevant people, so they know we will not be doing business with that family anymore."

Tonirama bares his teeth in vindicated pleasure; that is _very_ restrained, but also utterly ruthless in the long run. Clearly this merchant cares more about money than anything else and so does his son, so in return for the hurt dealt to her clansman Izuna will deprive them of the Uchiha's money, and over time others will also notice the Uchiha's refusal to deal with those people and follow suit.

"Besides," Izuna's chakra gains a distinctly vicious tinge, "in ten years time, with a wife he doesn't want to touch, children he doesn't know what to do with and frittering away that precious money of his on a pretty young man in the nearest red-lantern district, that fool who threw Nukabira's heart away may come to regret his choice. But there will be no turning back for him."

"And so your true vengeance is revealed."

Izuna smiles sweetly. "The dead do not suffer." The expression softens. "So, have you decided how you feel about your new clothes?"

"They are comfortable." Seductively, insidiously comfortable, in fact; Tobirama is realising with increasing dismay that he really _likes_ the feel of silk against his forearms and the startling ease of movement it provides, never catching anywhere. He had completely forgotten about the obi he was wearing –complete with fancy musubi– until Jakuchi, the warrior with the burn scars, gravely complimented him on his outfit once the meal was over.

Yes, the weight distribution takes a little getting used to, but he has been wearing armour since he was a child and this pales in comparison.

Izuna hums. "And the appearance?"

Tobirama now knows the exact words for the specific aesthetic form his new kimono and obi ensemble conforms to, with its warm tones contrasting vivid sky-blues; the joy of a day with a cloudless sky. It is at least _not_ one of the explicitly feminine-coded colour schemes, which he appreciates very much.

"I will wear it again," he decides firmly. Izuna's squad had not been making any attempt whatsoever to school either their faces or their chakra, and Nukabira's shy admiration had been… gratifying. No, it is not something he ever would have picked for himself. But it _does_ look good, it is _not_ outright uncomfortable and he can appreciate the wisdom of encouraging the Uchiha clan to forget exactly how dangerous he truly is by dressing as ornamentally as his new role as concubine allows.

Izuna probably will _not_ forget, but she can likely be distracted now and then, which will be enough if he times things right.

"Not an answer," Izuna sing-songs back at him.

Tobirama sighs, lips twitching up in spite of himself. "I do like what you have bought me," he admits, "and I _would_ like you teach me how to tie a fancy musubi." He stiffens his spine. "Even if that involves genjutsu; I trust you that much."

Izuna's _blindingly delighted_ smile is proof enough that he has made the right choice.

* * *

Four days later Tobirama is getting better at tying the shellfish knot by himself behind his back –and wearing the long obi plain-side out with his green kimono, to ring the changes– and Izuna brings her new squad-mate around to the front door for an introduction.

"Tobirama-kun, you are already familiar with Takao-san" –the greying older man with the half-tail keeping his fringe out of his eyes– "Jakuchi-san" –with the burn scars on his face and the high tail– "and Akira-kun" –with the winged forehead tattoo and short spikes– "so allow me to present Tatsuo-san."

Tatsuo-san is probably Izuna's own age rather than noticeably older or younger and has that painfully generic Uchiha look with pin-straight black hair hanging to just above his shoulders, the only vaguely distinguishing features being the faint bluish tinge to his black eyes and the harness that marks him as an explosives specialist.

The warrior bows politely in accordance with Tobirama's ranking within the Uchiha clan, and marks himself as belonging to some lineage or other by not bowing _quite_ as low as Nukabira had. "Uchiha Tobirama-san."

Tobirama bows back, recites the appropriate pleasantries, and then appreciates very much that Izuna shoos her squad off to leave without her.

"You're getting much better at that musubi," Izuna says as she makes tea.

"Thank you, Lord-Wife." Tōka has made not the slightest effort to assist him in this particular challenge, which he wouldn't have minded if she wasn't also _heckling_ at carefully-judged intervals; usually when he has to pause a moment to readjust and then repeat a step. That promised pillow-book can't arrive too soon.

"How are you feeling about the hair?"

His hair is now waist-length, or _would_ be if it didn't _curl_. It therefore hangs to mid-back in large, messy whorls, the bangs at the front stubbornly refusing to grow beyond chin-length and therefore falling into his face at every possible opportunity. He has taken to tying them back on the top of his head in a half-tail, but so far has not done anything more complicated than a high tail with the rest of his hair as he has still not decided how much he wants Izuna to trim it.

It is both softer and better-behaved as a result of the new care regimen and increased length. Tobirama has decided he will keep both, even though sourcing the hair salve after escaping might prove difficult. He does know its texture and scent so hopefully all he will have to do is find it in a shop, but the Uchiha do make much of what they use so this might be a clan recipe.

"I think," He says carefully, "I would like you to even up the ends, but no more than that." With his hair wet and pulled straight, she can do that from out of arm's reach of the back of his neck. Yes, he recognises that caring about a blade in her hand but not minding her hands on his throat is a _ridiculous_ distinction to make, but he cannot control what sets off his instincts and this is something he has to accept.

Izuna simply nods, as though his caution is perfectly rational. "I will bring a razor tomorrow morning." She then thankfully changes the subject. "How do you feel about sweets?"

Tobirama blinks. "I don't _dislike_ them," he admits cautiously, "but I do believe it is possible to eat too many."

Izuna smiles. "I'm asking because I have a shakedown mission to the vicinity of the Tea Country border with my new squad the day after tomorrow –just a simple thing, I'll only be gone two days at most, kami willing– so we're probably going to end up stopping by Yanagi-machi on the way back and they have the _best_ sweetshops there. Akimichi-sponsored, of course."

Tobirama feels a muscle in his face twitch at the mention of the very large pleasure district outside the daimyo's capital city.

"Do I have to bribe you with extra kimono for the embarrassment of knowing I _will_ end up in a tea house, Tobirama?" Izuna asks perceptively. "If only actually for tea and gossip?"

"If I say yes, you _will_ have those geisha advise you on what to buy, won't you." Tobirama's got her measure now.

Izuna hides a giggle behind her sleeve, eyes bright. "They are _always_ at the height of fashion, my treasure! How could I _not_ bow to their expertise?"

"I want another obi as well then," Tobirama decides; if this is inevitable he may as well extort as much as he can. "A half-width one, for everyday."

"A kimono and half-width obi, for my longsuffering concubine," Izuna agrees, chakra sparkling. "And you are yet to tell me your feelings on sweets."

"I like higashi, if I can have them with tea," Tobirama says, deliberately reminding her of her threat to host a tea ceremony for him, "and namagashi are always a welcome treat. Beyond that, arare are nice." He's not massively enamoured of sweet things, but they are enjoyable on occasion and he likes the faintly savoury crunch of arare.

"As you wish," Izuna agrees; "I shall be the talk of the town with my extravagance."

Tobirama would be vindictively delighted if all this spending money on him changed Izuna's public reputation from being a shameless womaniser to being utterly, embarrassingly obsessed with 'his' concubine, but he's not going to hold his breath for it. "As you should be, being a highly-ranked member of a kuge clan," he says instead, tone deliberately snooty.

Izuna huffs laughter, not even bothering to hide it behind a sleeve. "I have given you _standards_ ," she bemoans teasingly; "you will never deign to wear cotton ever again."

Tobirama sips his tea. "Is that a promise of a silk sleeping yukata I hear?" he asks archly.

Izuna's eyes darken; oh that _is_ interesting, he'll have to remember that for later. "I am ever diligent in pursuing my concubine's comfort and wellbeing," she murmurs, eyes lowered over her tea but chakra heating in a way that has nothing to do with her elemental leaning.

Tobirama finishes his tea. "I should take off a few layers," he decides, "so they don't get creased while you comb my hair." The excuse is utterly spurious of course, but he _likes_ sprawling over Izuna as she combs his hair. It's a genuinely pleasant experience and he sees no reason to deny himself when so many other parts of being her concubine can get unexpectedly tense at odd moments.

Izuna also likes it when he lounges over her; her scent is explicit on that part and not simply in a sexual way. She enjoys the physical contact for its own sake as much as an anticipatory taste of other more intimate things. Longer hair unfortunately means less time with the comb on his scalp and rather more gentle tugging, but there is a pleasure to that which Tobirama is slowly coming to appreciate.

"Should I take off my kimono as well?" Izuna asks coyly, setting her own empty teacup aside. Tobirama eyes her –under that golden yellow kimono all she has on is a pink nagajuban, plus the ever-present soft corset and half-wrap under that– and decides that actually yes, getting to effortlessly tease Izuna with his own sensual enjoyment of having his hair combed would be a _very_ fun way to spend the rest of the morning.

Tōka's making baskets on the engawa, so there's no need to worry about disturbing her.

A wickedly mischievous part of him wants to find out how Izuna will react if he puts his hands under her clothing as she's combing his hair, to slide over her skin as the comb scrapes across his scalp. Will she make him stop? Or will she play along, inviting him to touch –and kiss– further?

He's mostly sure she'll play along, and as ever the prospect of being allowed to challenge her and escalate the situation in a setting where Izuna cannot immediately turn the tables on him –because she has _committed_ to her current course of action and to turn from it would mean breaking a promise– is _exceedingly_ pleasant.

Izuna evidently reads some of his intent off his face, because she narrows her eyes playfully at him as she gets up to take off her kimono.

"You have some misbehaviour in mind, don't you?"

"You'll enjoy it," Tobirama promises lazily as he carefully unknots and sets aside his obi, then shrugs gracefully out of his green kimono to reveal the padded red-purple dōnuki, now sporting the lapis blue stitched-on collar since it goes well with all three of his current silk kimono.

"That," Izuna replies, voice lightly tinged with mirth as she settles back on the floor cushion holding the comb, "was never in doubt."


	14. Chapter 14

Having his hair trimmed had not been at all a comfortable experience, mostly because it turned out Uchiha Tajima felt that Izuna bringing a blade within arm's reach of Tobirama –even in his currently weakened and chakra-bound state– constituted 'a threat to clan security.' Therefore Tobirama got up the next morning to find Izuna waiting outside –in working indigoes– along with Azumaya-ba, Madara and the Deathblow.

Uchiha Hikaku had bowed politely to him, then turned expectantly to Izuna, who explained this new requirement her father had set: she could only cut Tobirama's hair if his hands were restrained for the duration. Seeing as she did not want to shackle him to the floor in the fusuma room –and Tobirama _greatly appreciates_ her unwillingness to do so– she had brought three people so he could choose one to hold his wrists when the time came for her to wield the razor. Given the chakra restrictions he is labouring under, hands will be enough; even Azumaya-ba could break his wrists with ease, _especially_ when one of them was recently cracked and is likely not entirely back to full strength.

Tobirama had picked Madara, based on familiarity and not wanting a chatty Obaasan offering unsolicited commentary on his appearance; not that he'd admitted to his reasoning there. This had been accepted, the other two had left –Azumaya-ba promising to be back the next day with his first silk request– and Tobirama had submitted docilely to having his hair washed by his Lord-Wife, then allowed himself to be wrapped in towels in the stone room and have his brother's opponent gently but firmly grip his wrists as Izuna meticulously combed out his damp hair and trimmed all the ends to the same length with a straight razor.

She was utterly conscientious about staying firmly within his peripheral vision, as promised. It made the whole process take longer, but Tobirama's heart _ached_ with gratitude at her steady determination to bow to his wishes in everything regarding his actual physical person.

He knows he does not have the power to compel that respect, so to be granted it regardless is a precious thing indeed.

But that was two mornings ago, and Izuna more than made up for the indignity by gifting him with silk hair-cords and helping him over the hurdle of adapting his practice in tying up his cousin's hair-bun for her to apply to his own head. Currently he has _all_ his hair neatly tied up in a warrior knot –the same one Izuna uses, so had no trouble teaching him– and is wearing the shrimp kimono with the stiff shibori-style weave obi worn white-side out, on the basis that despite not being exactly _aesthetic_ –well it _is_ but this particular colour combination is _very_ feminine– the outfit is comfortable and nobody who cares enough to comment on it is going to visit.

Tōka does not count. She will heckle no matter _what_ he wears.

Tobirama does actually have a _plan_ for these two days, hence his request for silk to Azumaya-ba most of a week ago and his now sitting at his braiding stand with his sleeves neatly tied back. The Obasan has suggested obi cords –and no doubt believed that was what he would be weaving– but Tobirama knows Izuna well enough to recognise she will have no shortage of those, and that he is the only person who would ever see her wearing them anyway. Well, he and possibly her clan elders, if she dresses up for the meetings she occasionally mentions. It's not like Izuna is a regular at Court, to show off her finery there.

So instead he is making wrapping cords for her sword, both hilt-wrapping and a hanging cord to tie the scabbard to her belt. Her current cords are dark brown leather, blending with the rest of the scabbard, but Tobirama wants very much to put _some_ kind of mark on his Lord-Wife that others can see. She is dressing him in all these silks –though no-one but her own clan can see it– and he wants to do something in turn, so those she meets and fights will _believe_ that yes, there is more to Izuna's talk of a concubine than just shinobi misdirection.

And if this means subjecting Izuna to all kind of _delightful_ jokes over 'his' concubine having a firm grip on 'his sword,' then all the better. He's getting far too many sword jokes from Tōka as it is, so his Lord-Wife can share his suffering. To fully ensure Izuna bears the _full_ brunt of such teasing, he's making the cords in a vivid shade of cyan that has to be distilled in a laboratory and is most famous for being worn by the concubines of the Water Daimyo's extensive harem.

Across the room to his right, seated by the open shōji –but not actually outside– Tōka plucks judgementally at her kokyū, repeating the main refrain for the kitsune wedding 'heartbreaker' song. Tobirama pointedly ignores her, all his attention on the simple but very thin flat braid in front of him.

"Had any more thoughts about what you're going to do when 'pregnant' becomes 'baby,' little cousin?"

Tobirama does not look up. "There will be a good seven months between our clan finding out I'm still alive and that happening, Tōka."

"Seven months isn't as long as it might be," she points out mildly, lowering the bow to the strings and shifting to a different idle tune he does not immediately recognise. "We've been here five weeks already, with another ten days to go before Tajima is even going to _inform_ the daimyo. It'll probably take another week after _that_ for a congratulatory letter to be dispatched to your father."

Making the better part of three weeks in all to go; she's right that by that point he will only have _six_ months to escape in. "How are your legs?"

"I'm exercising, but they're definitely not up to taking my weight yet. Probably won't be for another month." And the moment they _are_ , she is likely to lose a foot on principle.

"I'm sorry I can't think of a way to get you out," Tobirama says quietly. He has the physical mobility to carry her, but a surreptitious attempt to fall off the engawa last week was a completely dismal failure; he is physically incapable of leaving the building by any means whatsoever. Tōka meanwhile is restricted only by her own broken bones, but that may as well be an iron shackle.

If he could get into the garden he would be able to lower his cousin over the fence and then her renewed access to chakra would let her reinforce those mostly-mended femurs enough for her to –hopefully– get off Uchiha grounds and escape into the territory claimed by their clan before the fragile mend gives out under the strain, but he can't and so that plan is useless. His cousin will have to walk out of range of the suppression seals on her own, which she isn't yet healed enough for.

"We have time," Tōka says calmly. Tobirama then realises the song she's playing _now_ is also from the wedding, the one about a controlling lover –with the refrain being 'come closer, she says come closer'– and very firmly goes back to ignoring her.

* * *

The third morning after Izuna's departure Tobirama wakes to find a fresh hydrangea blossom in the vase, a nettle-leaved variety with a head of tiny spiky flowers in a very pale shade of blue. He's more used to the massive, showily decorative blossoms of the later-flowering varieties, but this one is much more in keeping with the wabi-sabi aesthetic. He wonders where she got it from, as well as how she got it back here without it wilting; he knows from Hashirama that hydrangeas are very thirsty shrubs.

Knowing that she must have returned during the night, Tobirama quickly washes and then after some consideration puts on the pale brown wool kimono over a white nagajuban and ties it with the stiff obi, orange side out this time. Then he carefully takes his hair out of its night-time braid –and Izuna was right, doing that really _does_ reduce tangling– briskly combing out and retwisting the curls before tying them all up again with the appropriate cords.

Two cords, as is now usual: one to tie his short bangs to the main body of hair on the top of his head in a half-tail, then another to bundle up the rest of his hair and hide that tiny fluffy tail in the middle of a larger topknot. The cords –the only silk ones he has so far– are a soft willow grey that go well with everything and, when Izuna showed him how he looked with a genjutsu, seemed to somehow draw attention to his eyes.

Tobirama suspects that dressing to draw attention to a person's eyes is very strongly ingrained for Uchiha.

Tōka eyes him when he arrives to carry her to the washroom –which he is doing more often now her legs are less likely to accidentally re-break– but does not comment.

Today is the day of the week Izuna does not usually arrive until mid-morning at the earliest, so Tobirama expects her to keep to that. And indeed she does; Saburō lets them know at breakfast that Izuna is back and will be over later, but won't say a word on what it is that Izuna is _doing_ despite letting slip various other details the teenager probably should _not_ be sharing with them, such as that Madara and Hikaku are both currently away on missions.

Tobirama doesn't step in as Tōka idly coaxes out further details of what Saburō's other close relatives have been doing lately; they need all the information they can get.

After breakfast he gets out the sword and scabbard wrappings and meticulously looks them over again, just to make _sure_ they are perfect, then wraps them back up in washi and tucks them into his obi before getting out the etiquette guide. He's familiarised himself with many more of the kanji now –if still not quite all of them– so it is a much more coherent read, and Izuna's explanation of colour schemes and their meanings has further informed his understanding of the sartorial side of court manners.

It is all very complicated and feels distinctly pointless, but the fact remains that Fire Country has been united under the daimyo's line and mostly peaceful for the better part of four centuries, and that is an impressive achievement. If all this protocol and precedent is what enables that to happen, then his brother would do well to take some of it on board as well. More of the etiquette at least; he knows Anija is often unthinkingly rude in his earnestness, but he'd never previously realised quite _how_ rude.

Then again, much of the actual _protocol_ seems to be accreted like limestone around a spring; governance might actually work more smoothly and effectively is it were removed, or at least streamlined.

Izuna arrives in the genkan with a cheerful and anticipatory fizz in her chakra; Tobirama sets his book aside and gets up. Tōka looks up from her own reading –the guide to Iron, interestingly– as Izuna announces herself and walks into the tatami room.

"Lord-Wife," Tobirama says, leaning in to kiss her.

"My concubine," Izuna replies warmly, resplendent in that deep purple kimono belted with a bright white obi painted with curving purple lines and cleverly shaded silhouettes of bellflowers and irises all in orange interspersed with contrasting silver-grey arabesques. "I trust you were not too bored in my absence?"

"Not _too_ bored," Tobirama agrees dryly. "But then again, would absence make the heart grow fonder otherwise?"

Izuna laughs, bright and faintly wry. "I missed you too," she says softly.

Off to one side Tōka quietly closes her book and reaches up to open the shōji; Izuna turns towards her with a vibrant grin, chakra abruptly all mischief.

"Tōka-san!"

His cousin freezes. "Yes?" She agrees warily.

"Tobirama-kun pointed out that it has been a while since I provided you with interesting reading material," Izuna barrels on, still radiating delighted wickedness, "so I bought you something while I was away!"

"Izuna-sama is too kind," Tōka says, caught between gratification and caution. Izuna evidently catches both feelings, as she smirks ever so slightly as she takes the few steps needed to hand his cousin the cloth-wrapped parcel.

Tōka opens it, glances at the plain front of the book revealed, opens the cover and freezes again, chakra now reeling in an amusing mixture of dismay and morbid curiosity as she quickly flips it closed again. "I couldn't possibly accept this, it's too expensive."

"Oh no, Tōka-san, I really must _insist_ ," Izuna says with cheerful menace. "After all, with your broken legs and all you must be feeling _terribly_ under-stimulated. I've been a very neglectful host so far, really; please allow me to make it up to you!"

Tobirama can't help the smirk painted across his own face; he'd probably have to break one of his own fingers to shift it. Glorious, _glorious_ revenge is his at last!

Tōka's eyes slide from Izuna's aggressively innocent beam to Tobirama's toothy smirk and then back again, her chakra briefly sharpening then twisting into rueful acceptance. "Then I thank Izuna-sama for her consideration and generosity," she says dryly. "Might I assume that my _dear cousin_ was where you inquired after my tastes?"

"I suggested you might enjoy some more engaging reading material, yes," Tobirama admits without an ounce of shame.

Tōka nods, the movement carefully judged. "Why thank you Tobirama-kun; I'll have to do something nice for you."

That is a threat, but right now Tobirama doesn't particularly _care_. He has won this round. "Would you like to adjourn outside?" He asks solicitously. "Or would the fusuma room be more private?"

Tōka's chakra ripples ruefully. "For my first reading, I should probably stay indoors," she admits dryly, "but with the heating Izuna-sama has so thoughtfully supplied, I feel I would prefer the stone room, seeing as you will be taking tea in here."

Greater distance, and also blocking access to the washroom; Tōka may well end up regretting that. Tobirama privately resolves to _ensure_ it as Izuna carries his cousin through, along with one of the floor cushions for comfort.

When Izuna walks back into the tatami room, she is carrying a familiar bag; it is the same indigo canvas she had over her shoulder when she gave him the shrimp kimono and associated accessories.

"Would you like tea and sweets first, or last?" Izuna asks, settling comfortably on a cushion with the bag beside her.

"Last," Tobirama decides as he sits; that way he will have clean hands for opening his gifts, and also he can acquire context for whatever she has bought this time without ruining the surprise along the way. He knows the various bags she carries act like storage seals, so size is no indicator of contents.

Izuna accepts his decision, reaches into her bag and hands him the top package; Tobirama realises only as he takes it from her that he's sitting closer than usual: their hands overlap as he accepts it and she has to slide her fingers out of his grip.

In it are two nagajuban and four pairs of tabi, all in the delicate creamy yellow of a steamed chestnut. Coloured, but _not pink_ ; Tobirama loves them already, although the texture also looks different to his other ones.

"Thank you, these are very lovely," he says, gently touching the fabric and then pausing. These, unlike his other nagajuban so far, are _not_ cotton. They are silk crepe; _that_ is why the texture is different. He jerks upright to _stare_ at Izuna, who of course reads everything tangled up under the surface right off his face.

"It was pointed out to me," she says lightly, "that I should be dressing you according to my status. And cotton may be more easily washed, but a truly _fashionable_ nagajuban should be rinzu or chirimen silk."

The prospect of wearing silk next to his skin, _all_ of his skin –well just-about all– is… Tobirama needs a moment. "Thank you, Lord-Wife," he manages, hoping weakly that she can't see quite how _much_ he likes this particular gift.

Izuna hums fondly, then hands him the next, smaller parcel. It contains a full-width obi about three and a half metres long, black on one side painted with swirling green-grey willow leaves and brown seedpods along one half and at the very end of the plain part, the reverse side lined in plain spun silk the same clove-scented brown of the seedpods.

It will add a touch of subdued class to his green kimono, and is lightweight enough to be much easier to wear and tie than his crab obi. It is also rather less costly; figured damask is a prestige item. "This is very fine and I shall enjoy wearing it."

"I am glad that it pleases you." Izuna hands him another parcel that by size and weight _has_ to be a silk kimono.

Tobirama opens with mild trepidation; given what kimono she has already bestowed on him, he feels he has earned a little caution.

However Izuna lives to surprise him, so this time his concern is entirely unwarranted: the kimono contained within is a modest shade of sumac brown with a pleasantly subtle pine-branch damask pattern. He could wear it with the black obi for a tea ceremony, in fact.

"I now feel I might attend a tea ceremony without being unconscionably garish," he says mildly, meeting her eyes with a faint smile.

"How fortunate then," Izuna replies mischievously, "that I bought both namagashi and matcha."

Tobirama freezes. Namagashi are for _thick_ tea, and he is really _not_ confident in being able to behave appropriately as first guest for _that_. Yes, he knows the basics, but tea ceremony is not really something his family _do_. Well, other than his grandmother, but she mostly serves thin tea; he can count the occasions she has served thick tea with him present on one hand and still have fingers left over, and he was watching not participating.

Izuna's grin creases her tattoo. "Don't worry, I wouldn't spring a tea ceremony on you at no notice; that would not be at _all_ in the spirit of the tea. I thought we could have thin tea later with the higashi; the namagashi are just because you asked."

Tobirama feels his shoulders sag in relief. "You are _also_ a terrible tease," he notes, eyes narrowed as he carefully folds up the brown kimono so it can be set aside.

"I think you knew that already, Tobirama."

That is true; however, "I feel it is something you need to be reminded of."

Izuna bows slightly, acknowledging the hit. "Perhaps! Now, those are the gifts I had in mind already, so it is time for the bribes."

She has bought him _another_ kimono?! Yes, he was half-expecting an extra obi –he _did_ ask for half-width and the black one is full-width so there rather had to be another one– but an entire other kimono as _well?_ In addition to all the silk he has already?

Evidently yes; Tobirama manages to put on a vaguely neutral face and hopes he does not look too expectant.

"I did indeed," Izuna warns him mischievously, "consult the Flowers of the Yanagi-machi on the matter of a properly _fashionable_ kimono and half-width obi for my concubine, and the resulting scuffle for the honour of a place on my arm as I inspected the silk merchants and kimono workshops was _very_ fierce. But a senior sister prevailed, and thus I was firmly guided in my purchases." She pauses. "She also _insisted_ on my adding certain other accessories, so please be aware that I did not feel I could refuse those additions without betraying more of your identity than I was comfortable doing so. It was enough that I had to admit my concubine was rather on the tall side, so as to be allowed to buy a kimono made from wider and longer silk bolts rather than the standard women's sizes."

"I will not hold the extras against you." It is true that women's kimono generally use slightly narrower and shorter panels than men's ones, but there _is_ a degree of overlap. Tobirama suspects the overlap existing at _all_ is due to the Akimichi Clan being both regulars at court and somewhat statuesque regardless of gender; he is now grateful for it.

Izuna hands over a kimono-sized package; Tobirama opens it and pauses at the sight of _willow green_ silk. Willow green is the colour most favoured by the geisha of the Yanagi-machi, partly as a pun on the name of their home but also because the colour is delicate, sophisticated and subtle; in keeping with the fashions of the middle classes.

He raises his eyes to Izuna.

"The _height_ of fashion," she reminds him, eyes bright and chakra faintly wry.

Tobirama unfolds it. It is not _just_ willow-green; the threads have been dyed before weaving to create a subtle warp pattern of narcissus and bush-clover sprigs in a faintly greyer shade, adding a subdued dignity to the design. The silk is a plain weave, making it suitable both for wearing at home and out and about town –as appropriate for something so fashionable– and while the sleeves are a little longer than he's used to and stitched for a woman, those things can hopefully be rectified by the laundress who has already undertaken to sew various collars on his dōnuki as needed.

It is also, inevitably, red-lined. Red silk lining for kimono is the most common for women, despite Izuna favouring a much wider range of shades. But at least the lining is invisible from the outside when it is being worn.

"This could also be worn for tea," Tobirama notes; it will go just as well with the black obi as the brown kimono does.

"I am glad it meets your standards," Izuna teases gently.

"I do like it," Tobirama adds at the reminder that she does in fact want to be told how he _feels_ about his gifts, rather than just details of what he intends to do with them.

Izuna smiles again, softer this time. "I am glad." She hands him another, smaller parcel that must be the half-width obi.

It is in fact attractively simple, a subdued light blue and very dark grey-green in a large checked pattern on one side, and a plain pale water-blue crepe on the other. It will go well with most of his kimono, in fact; the blue side will look good with the shrimp, and either side would work with the green kimono. It won't go with his fish kimono –the colours are too similar– but his new black obi will, and that is almost as good.

It will even go with the brown kimono Izuna gave him earlier today. "This is a very well-chosen obi." He makes eye-contact. "I will enjoy wearing it."

"And now for the extras that I was not allowed to escape without also buying." Izuna shakes her head. "They are yours, however you feel about them; you may do with them as you wish."

Ominous; Tobirama accepts the mid-sized and slightly heavier package with appropriate trepidation.

He was right to be cautious: in this package are a range of accessories that would be most appreciated if he were, in fact, a woman, but are mostly awkward and slightly confusing. There is a soft violet-coloured silk purse containing a mirror, handkerchief and small pot of red lip-paint. A draw-string silk bag that matches the purse, for keeping anything else he might want to carry around when out and about. Two different lacquered ojime, one shaped like a koi and the other like a bird, to secure obi cords with. Three more handkerchiefs and two small hand towels, presumably for carrying around in the bag, and a set of very nice wide tasuki made of red silk for tying back his sleeves when working.

There is also what he recognises as eyeliner –a jar with a tiny brush– and powdered blush with a larger soft brush to apply it with, along with another jar with a little brush that he eventually concludes has to be red eye shadow. Along with these _most_ confusing items he also now has a three-pronged decorative hair comb, two fans printed with famous scenes from classical literature –one folding, one rigid– hair-ties in both soft purple and dark blue-grey, a new set of silk obi cords in silver-grey and a brooch to string on the obi cords made of ivory carved into a coiled dragon.

"I shall accept these in the spirit they were intended," Tobirama says carefully, "and I am sure _some_ of them at least will be used." The hair-ties, tasuki and obi cords, for instance; he will probably use the handkerchiefs as well. "And the hair comb is… aesthetic."

The decorative three-pronged comb is in fact either tortoiseshell or a very well-made lacquer imitation, but as a result is actually likely to look good against his pale hair. He's not entirely sure how he feels about all the little gifts, but there is a certain glee to be found in knowing that Izuna was bullied into spending money on all these as a result of her dedication to her cover as her father's _son_ , and he is strangely gratified that some total stranger –whom Izuna was likely paying for her time– decided to do something nice for her client's concubine, purely because she _could_. Despite being deceived on Tobirama's gender.

"How about you put them away while I make a pot of leaf tea," Izuna suggests, "and then we can talk over the sweets."

"That's a good idea." Tobirama gathers his very respectable haul of gifts, then remembers Tōka is reading in the stone room and makes a face.

Well, at least with his holding his packet of miscellaneous gifts _above_ her seated head height, she probably won't be able to see the ones he hides in the top drawer of the tansu. Hopefully.

He should drape one of the obi on top of them, just to make sure.

* * *

Tōka is in fact suitably distracted by the pillow book for Tobirama to sneak his more questionable gifts into the tansu without comment, which he is grateful for. It is only when he is sitting down with Izuna again, fresh sakuramochi on little plates painted with crickets in bold brush-strokes, that he remembers that he too had a gift for her.

"I made you a gift," he says, reaching for the folded washi tucked into his obi.

Izuna's face lights up, her chakra brilliant with delight and slightly wary anticipation. Tobirama could choose to be offended by that wary edge, but he's _earned_ that so he just feels faintly gratified. Izuna _recognises_ that he can make her life difficult even while locked up like a bird in a cage, and that is something to appreciate.

"I welcome anything my concubine chooses to give me," is what she actually _says_ though.

Tobirama passes it to her; he is still sitting a little closer than he probably should, from how her fingers slide gently over his as she accepts the roughly wrapped gift. He watches her intently as she unwraps it, and catches the exact instant she realises what he has given her.

She _laughs_. Does not even _try_ to hide it behind a sleeve, as she rocks gently in her utter delight, vivid appreciation of the taunt clear in her chakra. "Oh Treasure, you are a _delight_ ," she gasps. "I am going to be _mercilessly teased_ over this, you realise."

"That was partly the point," Tobirama concedes, "but you _have_ thrown all manner of costly gifts at me, and I _do_ want to reciprocate, so far as I am able." He is not a pretty pet in a sturdy cage, more status symbol than worthy contributor to the limping, lopsided partnership that is growing between them almost despite itself; he is a warrior and Izuna's equal, and wants that _recognised_.

Of course, he also recognises that further entangling himself like this will make it harder to leave when the time comes, but the sheer _frustration_ of owing Izuna so _much_ is unbearable. He would rather do his best to balance things between them while he can, the better to feel free of obligation when he is able to escape. There will still be a debt, one that will _always_ escape his means in pure monetary value, but handmade gifts are not valued on that scale and balance the debt in different ways.

"Then thank you, Tobirama, for honouring me with the fruits of your labours," Izuna says softly, fingertips caressing the vibrantly blue braids that he spent most of the past two days working on. "They are perfect."

Tobirama feels –he _feels_ –

He boxes it up for later examination. Right now there is tea, he has expensive seasonal sweets to savour and he needs to determine whether Izuna is serious about holding the promised tea ceremony this afternoon or whether he will have until tomorrow to prepare himself.

Well, prepare himself and make sure he is doing everything in _his_ power to ensure Izuna is still pregnant at the end of the month. He's sure she won't refuse him if he insinuates he'd prefer to do something involving less clothing after lunch; that would _ensure_ the tea is put off until tomorrow.

* * *

Being served tea on a spring morning –a proper ceremony, complete with a scroll hanging in the tatami room and a new vase and flower arrangement in its tokonoma– is always a joy, but to be served tea as first guest by _Izuna_ has… something more to it, somehow. The soft grace of every movement, the smooth confidence in her chakra, the steady ritual of the words; they all draw him into a space where he is not her captive and concubine, but an honoured guest and equal. Every word and gesture contributes to this conceit, so that when the thin tea is drunk and the ceremony finally ends Tobirama feels vaguely bereft.

Thankfully Izuna seems not to mind his silent retreat when she returns from putting the box of tea utensils –and other accoutrements– in the genkan, and settles next to where he is staring out of the open shōji at the birds fearlessly plucking insects off the low bushes in the garden. After a little while she tentatively wraps an arm around his waist above his obi knot; Tobirama decides to accept the comfort and leans into her slightly, wrapping his own arm around her upper back without taking his eyes off the view.

It's nice, to sit in silence with company who does not expect anything of him. And Izuna expects _nothing_ , he realises as the sun slowly marches up the sky. She asks, she hopes, she will cheerfully offer to bribe and yes, she _will_ manipulate; yet she still does not _expect_.

"You expect nothing," he says, then wishes he could take the words back when she turns to meet his eye.

"By what right _should_ I expect anything?"

Tobirama doesn't know. Logically, she's right, but _emotionally_ … "Everybody expects things." It's normal. Childish perhaps, a reflection of the time when he was small and foolish and believed the world would bend to his will because he was _right_ , but no less normal for that. All the more so, perhaps; Hashirama _still_ expects the world to bend to his whims, as though smiles and strength of arms will _ever_ be enough to win devoted obedience.

"I was nine when I learned that there is nothing at all I can reasonably expect from anybody else," Izuna says quietly. "The world will not bend itself to my wishes merely because I _want_ it to. If I desire change, I must convince those around me that they _want_ to make changes. It is not nature or fate that is immutable; it is the human heart."

It sounds almost small, compared to his brother's grand dreams of peace, and yet Tobirama can see that Izuna's ambitions are painted on a dizzying scale. Hashirama says that if Senju and Uchiha are allies, others will make peace because everybody follows the lead of the strongest; Tobirama never really put much thought into refuting that, purely because the very _idea_ of peace with the Uchiha was inherently ridiculous. _Now_ however, if he lets peace as an idea enter the realm of plausibility, he can see that his brother is wrong: just as Madara said, if the Senju and Uchiha make peace others will see that as a _threat_. And yes, they _will_ make peace with each-other, but only as a prelude to further conflict with the newly revealed threat their clans' alliance has become.

Izuna however seems to want to make peace one heart –and one person– at a time, which seems completely pointless and futile until you realise that doing so means each convert will then truly _believe_ in peace for themselves, and likely go on to extol its virtues to others. A slower and more painstaking start perhaps, but more sustainable in the long run; Tobirama has never thought to ask his brother how his peace will last beyond his or Madara's death, when their clans' combined threat to others is reduced enough that challengers can reasonably hope to overcome them.

To win hearts rather than compel action; that is Izuna's entire strategy for _everything_ , Tobirama realises. She makes you _want_ to do things differently, by showing you that it will _work_ and be _satisfying_.

Hashirama is still the only person in the Senju clan who genuinely believes in the possibility and prospect of peace. How many Uchiha are there that Izuna has personally won over, has subtly and inconspicuously convinced that for their clan to truly _prosper_ the feud with the Senju will have to go? That it is wasteful and pointless and a thing better relegated to the past; outdated, mildly embarrassing and not worth inflicting on the next generation?

Evidently _enough_ of her clan are willing to consider it that there has been only one attempt on his life so far, and an opportunistically half-hearted attempt at that. Enough that Azumaya-ba will happily supply him with silks despite losing her husband and various nieces and nephews to Senju on the battlefield; enough that only one warrior so far has come to the fence of the Diplomatic Quarters to menace him personally.

" _How_ do you win hearts for peace?"

Izune lets her head rest against his shoulder, apparently unbothered by the drastic change in subject that his internal chain of thought has led him to. "Who do you listen to, Tobirama?" She asks softly. "Your enemies? Your rivals? The remote and well-educated who assure you that they know what's best for you? Or do you listen to those who listen to _you_ , who take you hand and get to work beside you? We listen to those who care for us, whose affection and hope for our future is not in doubt."

Tobirama swallows, his throat abruptly dry. "This is why you flirt your way through missions, isn't it. The real reason."

"One of the reasons," she agrees steadily. "I do honestly detest killing people as well. But people only _genuinely_ take your words on board if they either resonate with what they already believe, or they are truly convinced you want good things for them. Or both; both is most effective."

"My clan trust me." He has built that trust over a decade of logistical and tactical improvements and strategic insights, both in the field and in bettering the clan's finances on the domestic side, and even warriors two decades older than him are willing to stop and hear him out when he asserts that things could perhaps be done more effectively in a new way.

"You and your cousin both, yes."

"Your clan trust you." That trust was evidently shaken by her abrupt and clearly unexpected abduction of –and then marriage to– him, but it survived that upset and is likely even stronger now than ever before. There has been no fighting between their clans for the better part of five _weeks_ now, which in spring is unprecedented in Tobirama's _lifetime_.

"They do."

"Why do you believe we can do what our older brothers can't?"

Izuna smirks tiredly at him. "I do not know Hashirama-san anywhere near as well as I do Madara-nii," she admits, "but he seems even more of an idealist than my Aniki. And a common problem for idealists seems to be that they do not realise that most people are _not_ idealists."

That. That is _exactly_ the thing that so _frustrates_ Tobirama about his Anija. Hashirama _cannot see_ that most people do not _care_ about big things like 'peace;' they only care about their own comfort and prosperity.

"You think my clan will take _me_ more seriously than my older brother, because they know I'm practical."

"I know they will," Izuna says simply. "You and Tōka both; if the two of you tell your kin that the Senju can prosper greatly in peace and become wealthy and successful, even more than you are now, they will _believe you_. Because you would not say it unless it were the _truth_ and you had a viable plan all laid out for them to follow."

She is right _again_ and Tobirama doesn't much like how clearly she can see him when he is still fumbling in the dark half the time in predicting _her_. He deflects with a half-joke:

"So you are seducing me for peace?"

Izuna huffs a quiet chuckle. "No, I'm seducing you because I _want_ to seduce you, Treasure; it does also make it easier to show you all the nice things you and your clan could have by embracing peace, I'll not deny that, but I would not have chosen this path if I didn't _personally_ want you." Her smile is mostly in her eyes, creasing Amaterasu's necklace that frames them. "Because you are brilliant and strong and loyal and complicated and terribly, terribly petty, and yes very lovely to look at, but also because I'm completely sure that if I hadn't done this you'd have outwitted me in the field one day and I would have died." The smile turns bittersweet. "I wouldn't have held it against you, but Madara-nii most certainly would have."

Tobirama feels a chill run down his spine at that simple pronouncement. He has never really thought about what would happen if he ever _succeeded_ in killing Izuna, but when she puts it like _that_ …

Madara, very obviously, _adores_ his sister. He is also the strongest and most terrifying warrior the Uchiha have, and in a straight fight Tobirama knows he would lose, badly.

"My thanks for your grace in saving me from myself," he says dryly to cover the realisation.

"Oh, like I haven't benefitted _immeasurably_ from marrying you?" Izuna teases, gently bumping her shoulder against his.

"Is that an admission that if I'd wanted to steal you away from _your_ clan, I should have just seduced you first?" Well, assuming he'd ever have noticed Izuna was a valid seduction target by himself; embarrassingly unlikely, all things considered.

Izuna shakes with suppressed laughter. "Oh, I'd have been _so tempted_ ," she admits, which sends a heated shiver down Tobirama's spine to coil impatiently in his gut, "but your father is even more controlling and high-handed than mine is, and that's saying something. I'd have convinced you to run away to Snow Country with me or something."

"And do what, run a travelling show?"

Izuna laughs again, louder and more freely this time. It's a completely inelegant sound and Tobirama wants to hear more of it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my last chapter of 2020; I will resume updating again in the New Year.

"Hikaku? What happened?"

Her cousin looks up from his shin, which his age-mate and fellow Squad-member Torao –one of the clan's few battle-trained Cat summoners– is meticulously levering thorns out of. There are a _lot_ of thorns, and more bloody marks when thorns have been.

"The Fatal Flower's team-mates are holding a grudge," he says mildly, as though that explains why he looks like he's been peeled out of his coat and thrown head-first through a blackberry thicket. He's in half-armour –his main set must be being adjusted again; Hikaku is still growing into himself– and that was clearly a mistake, going by how ragged he is everywhere not covered by leather and steel.

"Didn't you break their _backs?_ How are they mobile again so soon?" That is a rather terrifyingly short turn-around even for the Senju.

"I only broke one back in her squad; the other two were Senju elite who also gave chase," Hikaku corrects her. "So there are three very upset Senju who think I killed their cousin and squad-leader, and who are mobile and at large; we happened to encounter two of them on our way back from Wind."

"Any deaths?"

Her cousin sighs. "No, Izuna-bi, I did _not_ tip the balance of our not-quite-ceasefire before you can pressure Tajima-sama into writing of your delicate condition to the daimyo; hence my getting thrown through a bramble thicket."

Izuna winces; brambles are venomous and Hikaku's indigoes are _ragged_. They will be condemned as rags rather than passed on to hand-me-down wearers, or else the sections protected by the half-armour will be cut up for patches to mend less badly destroyed garments. "I owe you, cousin."

"If peace means Hidaka-kun is not dead before he is twenty, I will be content."

Izuna is reminded again that her slightly younger cousin has only one little brother now, when properly he should have at least two little brothers and two little sisters, and parents as well. The Senju killed Hijiri-kun and little Tokumi-chan, but the blood of Nini-ji, Naka-ba and tiny, premature Benten-chan are on her father's hands, even though he only directly slew one of them. The other deaths were direct consequences of his actions.

That was when she realised her father is ruled by expediency, so will _never_ agree to peace unless she somehow makes it expedient; that has informed most of her choices in the seven and change years since then.

Informed, but not dictated; she will not be dictated to by a man whose worldview is so small and miserable, not even when that man is her father whom she loves and respects. Especially not, in fact; to allow him to ruin her life would be to do a disservice to his teachings and ambitions.

"I can't promise, Hikaku."

Her cousin smiles at her gently, the wince at what Torao is doing to his legs barely a crease between his eyebrows. "And I respect and trust you all the more for it, cousin."

"Was anybody else injured?" She asks, changing the subject to something less profoundly subversive.

"Not so's you'd notice," Tsukiyo-san says from where she's flicking more thorns out of Hikaku's coat; it looks like the coat got caught and her cousin slipped out of it to avoid making himself an easy target. Which was no doubt a sensible and necessary move at the time, but Yori will be _very_ upset with him when she gets to see the damage and has to vigorously scrub out all these little scratches to prevent sepsis. Her cousin is still covered with them, although he evidently managed to shield the upper half of his face; was he tossed through the brambles _twice?_

"It's like we weren't even _there,_ " Zaō agrees irritably; he's technically a short-term transfer onto Hikaku's squad, learning mentorship from Tsukiyo for a year or so before being given a Squad Leader of his own to guide, but he's extremely capable and has every right to be annoyed over this, no matter how convenient it was.

"So I take it Hikaku-kun being the sole focus on their interest made it easier for you to extract him?"

"Define 'easier'," Tsukiyo-san grouches, "but essentially yes, Izuna-bi. Yukidama-dono led them very effectively astray, then caught up with us later." Yukidama-dono is Torao's primary combat summons, a mid-sized white Cat with a knack for extremely engaging sound-based genjutsu.

"I owe her extra fish," Torao agrees ruefully.

"Where's Enichi?" Izuna asks; Hikaku's sixteen-year-old cousin should be here as well.

"Already with the medics; a broken wrist. Pure bad luck," Zaō adds hastily; "a fish came up under his foot as we were crossing the river and he lost focus."

"And he _will_ be spending the next fortnight working on his water-walking," Tsukiyo-san mutters ominously, flicking another bit of spiked branch out of Hikaku's poor coat. The coat-makers are probably going to have to replace several entire external panels rather than just darning it; at least the damage is mostly superficial, so the lining will be intact. The canvas core might be a little torn in places, but outer layer, padding and canvas core are _all_ easier to mend and replace than the patchwork lining.

"Got your new Squad arrangement yet, cousin?" Hikaku asks.

"Today, supposedly," Izuna says with a sigh. "And I doubt I'm the only person getting a new face; Lord-Father had that _look_ in his eye, so watch out when you're reporting in."

All four shinobi cringe ever so slightly. Yes, that's a good summation of this particular mood of her father's.

"Enichi's going to get it," Torao predicts gloomily.

Yes, that does seem likely. It's never a good idea to be caught making a mistake when her Lord-Father feels like the Outguard needs a little _shaking up_ to ensure everybody's paying attention.

* * *

"A pillow book." Takao looks _supremely_ unimpressed. "You know the Fire Court ones are illegal to own and distribute, I trust?"

"In Fire Country, yes," Izuna agrees, lips twitching, "but the Uchiha clan don't _technically_ live _in_ Fire Country." They are their own little fief, who pay homage to the Fire Daimyo for political reasons but have complete control over their own laws and cultural practices. Which is part of why all various daimyo have ever done about the feud is complain; it's not actually the Fire Daimyo's responsibility to resolve it unless the Uchiha make an official complaint. And even then the Senju are officially a _nomadic_ clan, so _they_ only fall under the authority of Kurahashi-dono when _in_ Fire Country, despite paying him taxes on their 'temporary settlement.'

That they've lived in _exclusively_ for over five hundred years now.

"So not illegal for you to _own_ ," Takao amends, "but it's still illegal for somebody to _give_ you one, whether or not you pay them for it."

"Oh, but I'm going to be doing so _much_ shopping in the Yanagi-machi, Takao-ji!" Izuna gushes, doing a silly little twirl just because she can. "One might find its way into my purchases purely by _accident!"_

"Nice to hear there's a plan," Jakuchi says dryly. "What are we doing for this?"

"Well," Izuna says mischievously, "you can either do some shopping and sightseeing of your own–"

"We're not rich like you are Izuna-bi," Akira interjects flatly.

"– _or_ ," she continues, grinning at the Squad Baby, "you can run a few little errands for _me_." Lack of money is easily resolved with a little ingenuity and imperviousness to shame, but Izuna intends to wait a little longer before corrupting Akira into learning the many ways to relieve civilians of the money that they are wilfully throwing away.

"What kind of errands would these be?" Jakuchi asks, wary but not outraged at the mere prospect. "Because I am happily married and would like to _stay_ happily married. Which may not happen if my dear wife hears I've been spending clan money on geisha, at your behest or not."

"There's a tea-house a few Ministers frequent that you can go to and just, sit quietly and pretend to read a book while the Sisters gossip in your hearing," Izuna says comfortably. "When I visit I flirt, but honestly you just need to be _there_ and if you dress and act like a lonely man with no family who has to pay to sit in a tea house to get a little human company after introducing yourself properly to the Madam, the older sisters will make sure you hear _everything_." Usually she's the only one visiting these places –or she just has Takao in tow– because most of the time being here means she is acting as decoy and distraction while the rest of her Squad get up to something more obviously nefarious elsewhere in the capital district.

She has made the effort of turning these decoy escapades into something _useful_ , because otherwise it would be boring and she'd have nothing to talk about to whoever she is paying to be distracting _with_ her. Of course, to do that she actually needs _money_ , which is why her first stop is _always_ the gambling dens.

Shinobi are nominally banned from going in there, but nobody expects a shinobi in a kimono and makeup, oddly enough, and with Takao in an old-fashioned kimono as a prop she can play the mid-rank oiran well enough. She's got the education for it, after all, and in far more depth than any oiran could dream of; men do not visit brothels for cultured discourse.

"What about me?" Akira asks cautiously, glancing sideways at Tatsuo, who is yet to offer an opinion on Izuna's planned day-long delay in their return schedule.

"That depends entirely on whether you want to hang about on street corners and chat up the yūjo there, or get dolled-up as a maiko and use that fancy noble education of yours to infiltrate a party; it's hanami season, _somebody_ will be hiring pretty young ladies to serve them tea, play music and talk about poetry under the blossoms."

"You do that?" Akira looks a little taken aback.

"Mostly I pay the maiko to gossip with me afterwards," Izuna says frankly, "but to get the money to do that I generally appropriate a mid-level oiran's wardrobe and visit a few gambling dens while hanging off Takao's arm; I've got a few regular ladies who like getting a half-day away from their brothels while incognito and think it's _great_ fun dressing up a young shinobi nobleman like a whore." She grins, all teeth. "And not even a particularly _expensive_ whore." Which is honestly half the fun for her as well.

"Your father knows you do this," Tatsuo notes evenly.

Izuna shrugs. "Yes. It goes in my intelligence reports; he has to know where the data came from, to compensate for inevitable bias."

"And people wonder why I went grey so young," Takao grumbles, no bite in his words.

"I thought it was my pre-teen antics that did it, Mentor?" Izuna teases.

"They certainly _started_ it," Takao agrees darkly, "but when the teenage heiress you're responsible for drags you off into a _pleasure district_ and tells you she's going to dress up as an oiran to get you both into a few gambling dens so she can then spend all her winnings on geisha, _well_. I'm amazed my hair hasn't gone _white_."

"I think," Akira says deliberately after a very thoughtful pause, "that I'd rather chat up the yūjo. Can I borrow your face for it, Izuna-bi?"

Akira is actually very good at impersonating her; Izuna suspects that is partly the hero-worship, which astonishingly seems to still be going full-throttle despite this new revelation. "So long as it's a full show, go for it; don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

There's a laugh from her entire Squad. "Izuna-bi, that a _short_ list," Akira giggles.

"Easier to remember that way," Izuna points out comfortably. "Tetsuo-kun, any preferences?"

"Seeing as I am new to your Squad and this style of mission," Tatsuo says thoughtfully, "perhaps it would be best for me to act as your prop, leaving Takao-sensei free to operate independently as Jakuchi-sempai will be doing."

Izuna hums thoughtfully. "Think you can play the barely-of-age noble fool wasting his father's money on wine, women and gambling?"

"I can fake drunkenness tolerably well, Izuna-sama."

"Then I shall be the cheerfully predatory oiran thanking the kami for my good fortune as I empty your pockets," Izuna says brightly. "Takao, introduce Jakuchi at one of the smaller tea houses please, then sit in at the Ministers' favourite one yourself. Jakuchi, remember to hide your scars; genjutsu is fine if you don't want to bother with cosmetics. Akira, since you're being me in public stand a couple of the yūjo for lunch, please?"

"I just said I'm broke, Izuna-bi," Akira pouts.

Izuna rolls her eyes, but fishes some bills out of a seal in her sleeve. "What are you _spending_ it on, Akira-chibi?"

"Sweets," Jakuchi says abruptly. "And saving for another sword."

"Not _just_ sweets!" Akira protests hotly. "Neesan has kids! I'm _contributing!"_

"Well, do a good job being me up until lunchtime and I'll buy you a box of sweets with my ill-gotten gains," Izuna promises easily. "Just be sure to use the mnemonic exercises to remember everything they tell you, okay? No matter how vague or meaningless it sounds; this place has its own dialect and it takes a little getting used to." It's also very heavy on allusions, which Akira won't recognise most of. It takes experience and practice to truly sort out all the details, but until Akira reaches that point meticulous memorisation is enough.

"Standard intelligence protocols, I know," Akira agrees with a sigh. "But I'm absolutely _not_ telling my sister about this bit of the mission. Or my mother." Who would indeed have _words_ with Izuna over this unofficial information-gathering mission, seeing as Outguard or no, Akira is not yet _officially_ adult.

"Well I'm bribing my concubine into complacency with clothing, so I have no room to talk at all," Izuna shrugs. "Jakuchi, I'll come find you first so you're free to do a bit of shopping."

"Just so long as you don't make me find that pillow book you're after."

"Don't worry," Izuna says with a grin; "I already know where to source _that_."

* * *

"So why an oiran, Izuna-sama?"

Izuna glances over at Tatsuo as she carefully hangs the very long obi she has just untied from around her waist over the lavish screen, the genjutsu of a shamisen playing along to a song currently very popular at court disguising the fact that they are not spending this time as the brothel owner expects them to be. Kuraji-chan –as she is called by those who hold her debts; her real name is Sen– will not be back for another half-hour, and will then have to dress again in her suffocating finery so as to entertain further clients.

"Because," Izuna says, pointing at him with a just-removed hairpin, "they put _that_ tone in your voice. No, really," she continues, "oiran aren't as _classy_ as those who sell and patronise them like to believe. That's the whole _point_. Nobody really pays them much attention, or even bothers about trying to distinguish between then unless they're a regular patron and besotted with a specific individual. They don't have the artistic integrity and trend-setting originality that is attributed to geisha and their lack of historic continuity to the imperial period means that the oiran of today are not much like those of the old stories, no matter _how_ much they try to lean into that."

"Explain that to me, please?" He's sitting on the stool that was by the dressing table discreetly hidden behind the screen, now pulled out into the middle of what little space there is between the door and the sumptuous bed.

Izuna nods as she removes the last of the kimono layers and pulls on her own linen underthings; cheap though it might be, linen is better than cotton for work-wear. "Both geisha and oiran go back to the imperial period, as in they both _existed_ back then. But oiran were mostly in the capital, centred around the imperial palace and the nobility, while geisha were more evenly distributed because geisha were a merchant-class entertainment compared to the oiran's focus on the nobility. Also various laws about who was allowed to sell sex and where, but details." She waves a hand, then sets about removing the hairpiece bulking out the complex, many-pinned arrangement on the top of her head.

"What this _means_ is that when the Judgement happened, the entire oiran class was wiped out along with the capital and most of the nobility, but the geisha class survived in the various small-town tea-houses. So as town centres built up again and new trade focal points developed, the geisha simply continued as they always had. However the brothels, wanting a bigger piece of the market now that everything was deregulated, started dressing their yūjo up in imitation of the nobility and calling them oiran, but in reality keeping only the most obvious visual markers of the profession, meaning the front-knotted obi and the high geta. Otherwise the oiran of today have very little in common with those of the imperial period." That in-depth education in particular; modern 'oiran' can generally play an instrument and sing various songs currently popular at court, and tend to know enough about current affairs and the arts to make their clients feel intelligent, but not much more than that.

It makes them cheaper to train, as brothels do not have to invest so much time and money into their education; money which is spend on fine clothing that plunges the sisters into debt and time that goes into using them to turn a profit on the unchallenged illusion being sold. When the buyer knows they are purchasing an imitation, why bother with more than a cursory veil over the truth?

Izuna carefully sets the hairpiece on its stand, then quickly combs her hair out so it can be bundled back up in a topknot. "Geisha go for the iki aesthetic, they are artists and trend-setters and very much in the public eye," she continues, internally likening them to the celebrities of her former life. "Modern oiran are largely closeted, which is part of the appeal: the brothels they are confined to ape the aesthetics and layout of palaces and noblewomen's quarters, and the Flowers within are dressed as court beauties in furisode and tomesode with enough of the education to carry the façade. A junior minister with high ambitions may visit an oiran for a taste of his own aspirations; a mid-ranking minister may do so for the illusion of access to that which he may only see but never touch. And a young nobleman may well do likewise."

"So oiran sell a fantasy, letting their clients feel they have been granted access to places they cannot truly go and all the associated honours."

"Precisely," Izuna agrees, bending over the wash-stand to get the rice-powder paint off her face and neck.

"While what the geisha offer is more… authentic?"

"If you pare it right down, both offer illusions," Izuna says, eyes closed as she scrubs. "But geisha are more subtle about it."

"So nobody truly sees an oiran, because patrons see only the illusion they desire while bystanders see and are scornful of the farce being sold," Tatsuo deduces meticulously. "And thus, you may wear an oiran's face and clothing for a day, because nobody is _looking_."

"Nobody except her sisters," Izuna agrees cheerfully, reaching for the towel. "And we're both very careful not to give the game away there, her because _they_ would want secret free days too and possibly tell on her to the owner, me because I don't want to have to get used to a new face."

"How much money did you fleece those six establishments of?"

Izuna sniggers quietly into the towel. "Enough to reimburse myself for Sen-chan's time this morning, buy geisha all afternoon _and_ get my shopping done, plus a bribe for the pillow book and a nice bonus to take home afterwards." Gambling is a terribly destructive vice; she only profits from it because she does not truly gamble at all.

"I take it your visits are irregular enough that nobody notices you are doing this?"

"What do you take me for?"

"My apologies, Izuna-sama."

Izuna rolls her eyes as she pulls her trousers on. "Izuna-bi, _please_." She's used to the silly pet-name now and it does do a lot more for her field persona that she thought it would when Takao first saddled her with it.

"Izuna-bi, then." Tatsuo pauses. "Should I forgo other honorifics?"

"We don't use them much as a Squad, no." Most Squads don't, actually; it's only the new warriors and a few of the stuffier high-ranking members of other Lineages who really insist on them. Izuna can't see the point; it's more syllables to shout in the field and there's no _time_ for that.

"I shall adjust then." Tatsuo pauses. "You may also dispense with honorifics if you wish."

"Thanks Tatsuo, I will." He's not Yufu, but that doesn't mean he won't fit in. It's not like this is the first time her father has shuffled her Squad around on a whim; last time was when he dumped Jakuchi on her, about six months ago now.

It probably won't be the last time he does it either.

* * *

After the tea ceremony Tobirama withdraws rather visibly, so Izuna spends the rest of the morning sitting quietly with him. Conversation stops and starts, but none of it is awkward so she is content. Then after lunch she goes to change and fetch her koto; she did after all promise Tobirama a performance and she has been practicing.

It's both exciting and a little nerve-racking actually; she got the koto out and tuned it the very evening after he first asked her to play for him, and she has been practicing various pieces since then, trying to put together enough of them to make the event worthwhile but not so many that her audience will get bored or stiff from sitting still so long.

It's hard, picking out the right tunes. Most of her songs work as songs _because_ the music is so simple, and they become very dull when adapted for koto. She's written down a few instrumental pieces though –which are just as incongruously anachronous as the rest of her contributions to the clan repertoire– and is hoping that Tobirama will enjoy at least one of them. Hopefully enjoy it enough to make his face relax out of that habitual frown into something approaching the potential for a smile.

Tobirama's smiles are precious, all the more so for their rarity. The smirks are _delightful_ and rather more common, but the softness and _wonder_ of his smiles are such that she really doesn't _want_ to stop herself from coaxing them out as often as she can.

Which is why she _will_ be replacing _all_ his cotton nagajuban with silk equivalents; the wonder and unguarded pleasure on his face in the instant when he realised the steamed-chestnut-coloured long underwear was _silk_ were just too attractive, even though they were swiftly replaced by shock and mild trepidation.

But that is for later. Right now she is going to play koto for Tobirama like he asked her to, and hopefully talk some more afterwards over regular tea.

She arrives back at the Diplomatic Quarters to find that he too has changed –from the brown kimono and black obi to the willow-green kimono and the everyday half-width obi– and his eyes brighten subtly at the sight of the koto box. She hadn't _told_ him this was her plan for this afternoon, but she hadn't thought he would mind the surprise. He does look excited.

"You're going to play for me today, Lord-Wife?"

"You asked," Izuna replies simply, then adds a teasing, "and I have been practicing, don't worry!"

He smirks faintly at her, then sets about moving the floor cushions as she sets up the koto and settles in expectantly to listen. Izuna briefly checks where Tōka is –on the east side of the engawa, as opposed to in the fusuma room like she was this morning– and then begins to play.

She starts with 'Kiss in the Morning Early' because being a folk song it translates well to becoming purely instrumental, and also because Tobirama has heard her sing it. He evidently recognises the tune in short order, as the smirk persists even as his usual tense expression softens in response to the music.

The next piece she plays is the one piece of classical koto music she actually likes, called 'Spring Shower,' where the flurries of notes imitate raindrops falling on a garden, different tones for the pond, the paths, the trees –rain hitting leaves then larger droplets falling to the ground– and then, as the clouds pass overhead, the drip-drip that continues in its wake.

It's complex but very soothing; Tobirama visibly enjoys it, his chakra rippling gently in time with the swift cascades of notes. At the end of the piece Izuna pauses for a little while to preserve the mood, then follows into the pink panther theme, just because she can. Tobirasma of course doesn't recognise it, but his tiny smile makes it clear he enjoys the subversive little tune; it's fun on any instrument, really. Izuna plays it twice, then follows into a remix of 'Roxanne,' the tango from the Moulin Rouge movie.

Even without the words the tune is frantic and plaintive, calling up emotion and the urge to move. Tobirama's reaction is easily felt in his chakra and also read off his face; nice to know that the appeal and eroticism of the tango is _truly_ universal.

"That one is… _not_ restful," he comments dryly a few seconds after the final flourish, once the last reverberations have died away.

"Not decent either," she teases lightly.

Tobirama rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "Of _course_ it has words. What was I expecting."

"It's fun for fire-dancing to as well," Izuna says innocently, knowing her grin puts the lie to her tone.

"Fire dancing?"

She's not talked about that yet? "There was quite a bit at the wedding," Izuna says, trying to work out how to describe something so quintessentially Uchiha. "Dancing in pairs or more and using sharingan to coordinate, with fire jutsu as part of the dance."

"As yes, fire dancing," Tobirama says, looking immediately more enlightened. "Well it's a relief to know that was _planned_ , rather than just drunk warriors messing around."

Izuna laughs softly at the mental images that conjures; her poor concubine! She can see how worrying that would be to somebody not used to it. "I promise you were never in any danger," she teases softly.

He glares at her, but there's no bite to it. "A little warning _beforehand_ would have been very much appreciated."

Izuna shakes her head with a chuckle. "Well, it's not like I can promise to do so next time, is it?" She points out.

Tobirama huffs, resettling himself. "Are you going to play anything else?"

"Of course I can." Izuna quickly thinks over what she's been practicing –skips over a couple of choices as inappropriate even though Tobirama doesn't know the words– and settles on Fall Out Boy.

Moving the bridges, she sings along in her head as she plays: _And in the end, I'd do it all again_ ; _I think you're my best friend. Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright…_

"That one felt… sad," Tobirama says as the echoes fade.

"It's about what war does to the young," Izuna says quietly.

Tobirama looks at her, eyes so clear that Izuna feels _seen_. "Not just love songs," he says quietly.

"Still not something appropriate to sing," Izuna replies, equally quiet. The translation is _intensely_ subversive, even though converting the imagery even semi-faithfully was a _pig_ to manage.

Tobirama nods, deeply enough to be half a bow. He opens his mouth again, maybe to ask a question or for another song, but at that moment the bell over the Outguard Hall sounds, the clanging loud and steady and resonant, and Izuna is on her feet and packing away the koto almost before she realises what she's doing.

"Izuna?"

She doesn't look up from securing the massive instrument. "Outguard summons; _not_ the alarm for an impending assault, that's faster." He deserves to know that whatever this is, she is unlikely to be killing his kinsmen today.

She looks up as pale hands tie the last cords in place. Tobirama looks _intensely_ conflicted. "Take care," he manages.

Izuna leans in very slowly; he immediately closes the distance for a kiss. "I will have a message sent, even if I can't tell you in person how soon I'll be back," she promises after drawing back.

"Thank you."

Then she is out of the door with the koto, headed back home to change into her indigoes. The summons means 'arrive as soon as you may and properly dressed;' if it had been the alarm she would have run directly to the meeting point to find out what was going on and sent a runner to put the koto away and fetch her clothing, armour and weapons.

Whatever it is, she hopes it _isn't_ to do with the Senju.

* * *

She does manage to fit in a personal trip back to the Diplomatic Quarters, vaulting the fence and leaping lightly up onto the engawa to push the shōji open, making Tobirama jump violently.

"Sorry," she apologises, fingers rubbing compulsively over the new ties wrapped around the scabbard clutched in her off hand. "Bloodline thieves out of Lightning; I have to relieve my brother so he can give chase." And burn a wide trail up into the mountains then back out again, to prove his point as thoroughly as possible, of course. "No idea how long this will take; less than a week, hopefully." Her father gave her the same mission details Madara got when he left three days ago, but _anything_ could have happened since then so she is not hopeful.

Her heart aches for Tanigawa and the remains of his Squad, and the families of Hiroto and Kasa. Having to hold funerals when the bodies have been desecrated and there is not yet word from those giving chase is… awful.

Tobirama straightens out of his defensive crouch, shoulders dropping and breathing evening out. "That is understandable," he manages, tone flat, then manages to put a little softness into his voice: "I am sorry to hear of the losses of your kin."

"The funerals will be today," Izuna says, not sure why she is telling him at all. "I probably won't be able to buy you anything this time, I'm sorry."

His face does something complicated for an instant before his features smooth back under control. "Do not worry about it; this is your brother's mission you are finishing."

Izuna manages a chuckle. "No extorting kimono out of my brother!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tobirama says loftily. "I have seen nothing to suggest he has any taste at _all_."

More laughter bubbles up, sweet and sharp. "Treasure, you are a delight," she tells him warmly.

He walks closer, pausing just out of arm's reach and eyes dropping to her sword. Izuna remembers her father's stricture regarding blades and drops back into the garden for a moment to set the sheathed blade down on the path, then hops back up and steps into arm's reach.

Tobirama immediately pulls her in for a breathtaking kiss. "Come back safe," he whispers against her mouth.

"I promise," Izuna replies instantly. "The compound's going to be on high alert until Madara-nii's back again, so don't worry if you see more warriors patrolling or hear short chimes. Hikaku-kun will be bringing your meals for the duration." Hikaku is her father's deputy, despite Madara being Outguard Heir and herself being foremost warrior after her brother, so her Lord-Father is delegating the management of the increased patrol rotation to him.

Tobirama ducks his head. "Thank you for warning me."

Izuna leans in for a second kiss, quick and chaste. "Take care of yourself Tobirama," she murmurs; "I'll miss you."

Then she bounds back into the garden for her sword and runs for the border –and the specially-assembled Squad waiting for her– before she can give any more of herself away. Her Lord-Father may be a hard, cruel man, but in this he is correct: she is most _certainly_ a fool, to give her heart away so recklessly.

But it is done, so all that is left is to live with the loss.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Update! Happy New Year to all!

The next few days are tense, stressful and unbearably slow, and waking up on the second morning without Izuna to find his cousin _staring_ at him because apparently he purrs in his sleep now _does not help_. His mind keeps going back to Izuna standing on the engawa after scaring a good year off his life, coat hanging open over her elaborately enamelled armour patterned with sunbursts, straw ropes, mirrors and bats, sheathed sword held in the hand not holding the shōji open and fingers fidgeting with the vibrant silk tying cords he made for her.

They look so _much_ brighter against the plain brown of the scabbard than he was expecting them to, them and the hilt wrapping a brilliant and eye-catching cyan beacon. Making them so vivid had felt like a good idea at the time, but now he is less certain, for all that getting to _see_ them in use had been… gratifying.

Tobirama tries to banish the persistent nagging of his nerves by keeping busy, but there is less to do than there might be. Azumaya-ba keeps him in silk –though his plea for 'whatever is available now' has produced quite a lot of short skeins of peculiar shades that are clearly by-products of mishaps in the dying process as well as plenty of undyed thread– and his kanji fluency rises, but it's not really _enough_. Not even increasing his exercise routine really helps, although it does at least make it easier for him to sleep at night. Somewhat. Changing his sheets does not change the fact that his futon smells like Izuna and everything he's done with her on it.

Tōka also suffers the atmosphere hanging over the entire Uchiha compound; she turns several bundles of peeled twigs into baskets and is promoted to repairing extant baskets, her pre-teen tutor bringing them over in the mornings and collecting them later in the day. She also plays more music, but classical pieces now rather than Uchiha songs.

Hikaku is far more aware of the importance of information security than Saburō, so there are no conversations over meals; on day three of this relentless tension Tōka asks him whether catfish making earthquakes mean they can swim through rock and Tobirama _gladly_ seizes the opportunity to lose himself in pointless nonsense for a few hours. He knows even then that he'll regret it later, but 'later' is not 'immediately'

The discussion _does_ haunt him later, but it was time _not_ spent fretting endlessly over what might be going on beyond the walls confining his senses and he will take that. He hopes however that he doesn't end up making that choice again.

Thankfully he does not _have_ to find out what he might have done had the tension escalated further, as while he is eating breakfast on the fourth morning following her abrupt departure Izuna stumbles in through the genkan –no sword but still in armour– kisses him, mumbles something about a bath then staggers out again, grabbing sword and coat from one of the warrior bystanders loitering outside.

"We ran all night," says an unfamiliar warrior standing well back from the open front door –not Yufu's replacement but a total stranger– "and she hadn't slept much before that either."

Tobirama bows –bemused but warm under his skin despite the utter foolishness of such behaviour; Izuna knows better than that– then closes the front door and goes back into the tatami room to rescue his abandoned fish before Tōka tries to steal it.

* * *

Izuna returns an hour later, in an old, much-mended cotton kimono in delicate sakura-pink printed with cheerful brown sparrows and bound with a red obi, an arm slung over Hikaku's shoulder. Her eyes are closed, head lolling and her hair is casually bound up in a very simple style.

Hikaku look him in the eye, calm and faintly wry. "She ate properly, but the only person who can make her sleep after missions like this one is Madara-san and he's not here."

Tobirama does not ask for details; this mission _had_ after all been assigned to Madara originally, and it had only been Uchiha clansmen being mutilated and murdered that had prompted Tajima to change that. Madara's pursuit of vengeance for his kinsmen will no doubt be making an unforgettable impression even now.

"But she wanted to come here, so I brought her," Hikaku continues, a hint of threat seeping into his tone. "Leave the shōji open; I'll have a crow on watch."

Hikaku evidently does _not_ trust them not to harm Izuna, despite attempting to do so being the _height_ of stupidity at this point. Tobirama would be offended, except that the vast majority of humanity _is_ in fact that stupid. Most of humanity also seems blithely unaware of quite _how_ stupid they are, not all of which can be blamed on a lack of education.

"Until and unless she asks otherwise," he replies steadily, reaching out to take Izuna's weight; it's a good thing he's been practicing carrying Tōka, although Izuna is lighter than his cousin is.

Tobirama makes a mental note to _never_ comment on that in Tōka's hearing.

Hikaku, now unencumbered, bows. "Of course, spouse of my most honoured cousin. The will and wish of the Manifest Amaterasu Head has priority." He steps back out of the genkan.

Tobirama files the implication of politics in the back of his mind for later –there've been a few hints of 'manifest' in the Legal Code where precedent within the clan is discussed– and turns to carry Izuna into the fusuma room.

He will open the shōji, of course, but if Izuna is going to _sleep_ then she is best served by napping in the most comfortable room in the building.

"You can use the tatami room," he tells Tōka through the open door, "but the Deathblow's setting a watch."

Tōka rolls her eyes. "Like your fire-breathing wife couldn't kill us both in her _sleep_ right now," she complains, but obligingly shuffles painstakingly over to the shōji that faces the field of stumpy willow trees and slides it open. "It's a nice enough day, at least," she concedes.

Tobirama hums, opening the fusuma and walking inside. Izuna's not _quite_ asleep; she's awake enough to put one foot in front of the other at least, but frankly given ten years experience in the field Izuna probably _has_ sleepwalked along like this on a forced march before now.

"Still with me, Lord-Wife?" he asks quietly as he reaches for the rolled-up futon.

Izuna turns into him, nuzzling his cheek and hot breath caressing his throat and ear. "Treasure," she murmurs, tone soft and tender; something clenches in the pit of his chest.

"I'm setting you down so I can unroll the futon," he tells her as he lowers her to the floor; she obligingly folds her legs under herself, shifting her weight to lean against the fusuma panels.

"Good?" She asks.

"Very good," he assures her as he shakes out the futon. Her eyes are open now, a thin sliver of limpid darkness peeking out between her lashes; she's _aware_ yes, but he still wouldn't put money on _awake_. He doubts she'll remember much, if anything, of this after having slept.

Izuna is agreeable enough in letting him lay her out of the futon, but when he tries to get up to close the open panels facing the genkan she grabs his arm in a too-fast-to-see movement. Tobirama starts back, but her grip is clumsy and gentle.

"Stay," she implores him, blinking.

"I promise," Tobirama says patiently, willing his heartbeat to settle, "I just want to close the fusuma."

Izuna's forehead creases, but her fingers loosen. "Fine," she grumbles. Tobirama rewards this with a kiss to her cheek before taking the few steps needed to ensure privacy and then coming back to her side to undress.

If he's going to cuddle on the futon with her he needs to be wearing something he won't mind creasing, like his sleeping yukata. There's no need to abuse his new willow kimono like that.

Izuna rolls onto her back to watch him undress. "Gonna fuck me?" She asks curiously.

Tobirama fumbles his obi. "I wasn't going to," he says dryly, making eye-contact as he carefully shrugs out of his kimono and drapes it over Tōka's futon. Yes, the heating does mean the tatami room is warm enough to sleep in, but his cousin does _not_ appreciate having to wake before the dawn due to the light and the loud birdsong now that dawn is arriving ever earlier.

Izuna makes a disappointed noise; it's adorable. Tobirama smiles to himself as he picks up the dropped obi and lays it over the kimono, then starts untying his nagajuban.

"Why?" She whines.

"Why am I not going to fuck you?" Tobirama clarifies, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Izuna hums agreement.

"Because you are barely conscious, Lord-Wife, and I'm not entirely sure you're not talking in your sleep."

Izuna considers this as he takes off his underwear and puts on his sleeping yukata. "Dara-nii says I sleep talk," she admits ponderously, "but I _think_ I'm awake."

"Ask me again after you've slept," Tobirama says fondly, tying the cords and kneeling by the futon, "and I'll probably say yes."

The happy noise she makes in response is something he will _definitely_ tease her over later. "Hold me?" She asks as he lies down facing her.

"My pleasure," Tobirama tells her, more honestly than he would if she were fully conscious. Although he's not sure she would snuggle against his chest and tuck her head under his chin if _she_ were fully conscious either.

"Dara-nii squawked when he saw my sword ties," Izuna mumbles after a long pause. "Was _awesome_."

Tobirama chuckles, easily able to picture the exchange.

"Says we deserve each-other," Izuna adds, tone slyly confiding.

Tobirama kisses her hair. "Not going to sleep?" He asks, for lack of anything else to say.

"Don't wanna," Izuna whines.

"Why not?"

Izuna snuggles closer. "Mission's waiting in the dark," she whispers, voice small. "Don't wanna."

Tobirama can't help the sudden swell of sympathy and warmth that engulfs him; it's nice to know Izuna is not as unshakeable as she projects. But he knows what to do about nightmares; he was an older brother too, once.

"I'll stay on guard for you," he promises coaxingly. "That way if it shows up, it's outnumbered."

Izuna giggles into his chest. "Silly," she mumbles.

"Oh no, it's _smart_ ," Tobirama insists with a grin, toying with the loose hairs at the nape of her neck. "After all, you did for it the first time around. I'm sure between us we'll have no trouble at all when it tries for revenge."

He stills in something more profound that surprise when he feels her lips on his throat. "Love you," Izuna murmurs, then her breathing slows and evens out.

Tobirama stares blindly over his wife's head, clutching her against his chest and not quite daring to let go. His heart _burns_.

What _is_ he going to do about _this?_

* * *

Tobirama's not sure when or how, but he does drift off. He only notices it when he jerks awake again to Izuna's fingertips on his chin, tracing the red line that appeared a few years ago. He's not entirely sure _why_ it showed up, or the matching lines on his jaw; he'd not been doing anything special that day. And yes, he's _sure_ he didn't do anything out of the ordinary because Anija made _such_ a fuss, dragging him to Ōka-ba when they hadn't washed off.

"Sorry treasure, I didn't mean to wake you."

Tobirama smiles, hoping the willingly offered softness will hide his new awareness that when she says 'treasure' she means 'beloved'. Izuna doesn't seem to remember those words, but that doesn't mean they weren't the truth.

How strange that he is the one in the cage, and yet _Izuna_ is the one who is irreversibly ensnared.

"Are you going to ask again?" He asks, teasing.

Izuna stills briefly, blinking, then laughs quietly into her curled hand, entire body shaking. "Oh, I'm _shameless_ ," she says ruefully. "Sorry about that."

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it when back in your right mind," Tobirama admits candidly.

Izuna laughs again, chakra bittersweet and wry. "Waking up with you sheathed inside me? Oh I'd have _liked_ that."

Tobirama's throat goes _dry_. She–

"But thank you," she goes on, looking him in the eye, "for checking. I picked a good husband."

Tobirama finds his voice. "Flattery," he manages, "will get you everywhere."

"Nah," Izuna shoots back, eyes bright and raw and _knowing_ , "it won't. But that's fine. I wouldn't have it any other way." She sits up and stretches, hair half falling out of the ties. "It's lunch time." On cue, her stomach rumbles.

Tobirama glances up at how the light falls through the transom panels; sure enough, it's noon. "Ruled by your stomach?" He asks mischievously.

"Hey, it tells the time," Izuna retorts easily, rolling her shoulders and gently flexing her fingers. "How have you been?"

Tobirama thinks about it. "It's been tense."

Izuna nods, not offering platitudes. "In four days' time my father will have to write to the daimyo."

Less than a week already? "That's… good," Tobirama manages.

"And," her lips twitch up, "that kimono I promised you for going along with my request to change your hair routine will be ready soon, I think."

Tobirama had honestly forgotten about that, mostly because he actually _likes_ the results of the change in hair routine. Sitting up himself, he pokes at his topknot –still in place, good– then reaches over to pull out her hair ties.

Izuna eyeballs him; Tobirama raises his palms mock-defensively. "They were coming out anyway!"

She sighs, roughly finger-combing the waist-length blue-black mass into order before holding out a demanding hand. Tobirama takes it and presses a kiss to her palm.

"Flirt," she accuses softly.

"Should I _not_ flirt with my beautiful wife?"

Izuna stills; Tobirama realises he's not called her beautiful before. "I didn't say it because you've got too many cards already," he clarifies, "but that doesn't mean it's not the truth."

His wife's shoulders soften. "It's not a matter of having the cards," she says, gently plucking the hair-ties from his fingers, "but being willing to play them." She meets his eyes. "I try not to play a hand if I think I'll regret it later."

There are so many layers there Tobirama can't pick them apart; isn't even sure he _wants_ to. There's so much he's unsure of still and doesn't want to touch, in case digging it up will make things worse.

"After all, it's not like you can walk away from the game when the chips are down and the play turns against you," Izuna adds, eyes a thousand miles away as she bundles up her hair. "You have to pick up the cards you have left and go on."

Tobirama feels the dark, aching edge in her chakra and decides to move the discussion onto safer ground. "Rough mission?"

Izuna refocuses on him. "Rough mission," she agrees steadily, handing dropping back to her lap.

He nods. "Want to go wash your face before lunch arrives?"

She pauses, then nods firmly. "I will." She gets up and walks out of the room.

Only then does Tobirama cover his face with both hands, flop back on the futon and let himself react to the fact she called him _husband_. Not 'concubine.'

Husband.

A slip of the tongue perhaps. But a _very_ telling one.

* * *

The next four days fly by, anticipation mingling with nervousness and almost baffling normality. Tobirama gets a lesson in tea ceremony etiquette on the first afternoon; the next day Izuna asks if he's made any new braids and he then has the unenviable dilemma of whether he should admit to the depth of desperation that drove him to such peculiar colours.

Izuna however spares him by not asking about that at all, her attention instead on his choice of patterns and which of them he likes best. Tobirama's grateful to have his pride spared and takes care to show his appreciation, which fills the rest of the time handily; even his cousin's heckling afterwards is a return to blessed normality.

The only _real_ difference is that Tōka has somehow attracted a cat. It's on the small side, a nondescript shade of grey and has aggressively claimed ownership of his cousin's lap, occasionally threatening to do battle with the kokyū to defend its position. It arrives on no timetable save its own, showing up at random and demanding attention until it tires of being fussed over and vanishes again. Izuna had raised an unimpressed eyebrow at it when she first caught sight of it at lunchtime on the day of her return, but the cat had ignored her with smug feline serenity and then continued to beg for Tōka's attention thereafter.

On the morning of the last day of the month Tobirama wakes up ridiculously early, realises he's not going to get back to sleep today and puts his wool kimono on over his sleeping yukata so he can sit on the engawa and watch the sun rise.

Soon his family will know he's alive. Soon his brother will be reassured. Soon there will be more spying attempts and eyes on the Uchiha compound, trying to find him. Soon he will be able to get Tōka out, soon enough –he hopes– that she will still have both feet and all her fingers.

It's a small and foolish hope, but he clings to it. Marrying Izuna saved his cousin's life; he doesn't want it to become the reason she can no longer walk the path she has chosen for herself. That would be another kind of death and no mercy at all. He agreed to this in the first place out of hope, hope of rescue; now that hope will get to prove its worth.

Tobirama trusts his clan, trusts his family; he _will_ be free again.

* * *

Tobirama feels he has a better grasp of who Izuna _is_ now, beyond the noble daughter she was born as and the warrior that duty has made of her. She is a poet and a dreamer, but also intensely grounded in the present and bafflingly, incomprehensibly kind. Being kind to her own clan makes plenty of sense, and even her kindness to him can easily be justified with practicality and strategy, but it is _more_ than that.

He knows Izuna is not squeamish, and she holds none of his brother's delusions that people do not 'deserve' to die; that comes through in choice of words and the flavour of her sorrows. It is not that she thinks her targets and enemies are deserving of life, but that she flinches from the hard emptiness that they have both seen in old warriors, their own fathers in particular. It is for herself, not for her enemies, that Izuna works to stay her hand from killing; she does not wish to find her father's words coming out of her mouth in twenty years time, berating her own children as they argue fiercely for what she too once believed.

Tobirama also does not believe that she would be so _consistently_ kind if it were merely an act. It would wear thin somewhere, or be confined to a specific arena. But Izuna is no less casually kind to Tōka than to himself, and not once has she threatened to withdraw that kindness. Yes, on that first afternoon she pointed out to Tōka that she did not _need_ to be kind, but no actual _threats_ were made.

Not even when he heartily deserved them.

What bothers Tobirama though is the reminder of what she said right at the beginning. That if their positions had been exchanged, he would have done as she had; because it is true, but also not.

True in that yes, he might well have stolen his counterpart off the battlefield as a concubine, but 'not' in that he knows himself, and he would _not_ have ever dared to hope he could be _happy_ with Izuna. He would have been as generous and as gentle as he could afford, yes, and her cage would have been comfortable, but he would have done so out of _duty_ , not out of care. Because he would be responsible for her situation –though her cage would be far less elegant and comfortable than his is– so should own that.

Izuna hopes extravagantly, and gives freely. She does not ply him with gifts because she feels she _should_ , but because he asks and because she _wants_ to give him things. Wants him to have everything that his heart desires and she can afford to give, not because she feels guilty but because she wants him to have things that please him. She wants him to be comfortable enough to tease and demand, even to refuse, and be confident in her mercy.

And she has thrown her heart at his feet, though she doubtless did not mean to _tell_ him she has done so. What little he has seen of the Uchiha in their home leads Tobirama to suspect that being careless with their hearts is a common failing; a heart should not be given unless you _trust_ the other person not to take advantage, but in this arena Izuna evidently lacks all reason. To commit thoughtlessly and completely to a _prisoner_ is folly; yes, they are married, but he is no less her prisoner for that.

If he were free, he _would_ go. And Izuna's no fool, she _knows_ that.

And _still_ –

Tobirama shakes his head firmly and gets to his feet; he'll shower and dress for breakfast, then carry Tōka to the washroom for her bucket of warm wash-water and lay out the newly-washed layers the laundress brought over yesterday for her.

Time isn't going to stop just because Izuna is a mystery he can't solve.

* * *

Izuna brings breakfast with a smile and a spring in her step. "My father," she says cheerfully, "is writing to the daimyo and _incredibly_ annoyed at me over it."

Tobirama feels almost _dizzy_ with relief and would probably have swayed if he wasn't sitting down.

"Does this mean he's going to start pushing you to maim me?" Tōka asks warily.

Izuna shakes her head. "Oh no; he should have written this letter three _weeks_ ago, so you've got that long. And your father should get a letter from the daimyo, or at _least_ a senior Minister, within the week."

That's _much_ longer than Tobirama had realised. Three _more_ weeks? If he'd known–

–Izuna _deliberately_ hadn't told him. If they'd known this three weeks ago, would he have taken it as freedom to make a little trouble? Would Tōka?

"So if our clan writes to yours within two weeks of receiving the daimyo's letter, either asking for a ceasefire or a meeting under truce..?" Tōka extrapolates.

"Then you get another extension," Izuna says easily, "as you get promoted from hostage to bargaining piece; my father knows how to play politics."

"But Tobirama won't."

Izuna looks up from her food. "He married into my clan, Tōka; did your mother ever go back?"

Tōka stiffens at the revelation that Izuna _knows_ her mother was a Kurama before her marriage to Tobirama's uncle Tokonoma. Tobirama doesn't think Sumi-ba ever _wanted_ to go back, honestly; she's certainly never implied she'd like to, and she certainly _could_ visit.

"Isn't it women who marry out?" Tōka asks.

"Not for Uchiha," Izuna says evenly. "Men marry in; we don't give our children to those born outside the clan. Makes bloodline theft that much harder."

It _is_ true that it's significantly harder for a husband to steal a kicking, screaming, fire-breathing pregnant Uchiha wife than it is for a pregnant wife to walk out of the compound under the pretence of visiting family and never coming back. Also a man on the run with an infant is going to have serious issues _feeding_ said infant that a wife would not have, starting with walking out of the house with it in the first place.

"Do women _never_ marry in then?"

Izuna's lips twitch. "Well they do, from time to time; but to do so they generally need to have no external family they're prepared to acknowledge and be willing to submit to a nice thorough sharingan investigation into their background and motives. So it's not _often_."

Tobirama shudders; he may not be so instinctively revolted by Izuna's various genjutsu, but she asks every time and she never _digs_. To just _sit there_ and let a stranger plumb the depths of your mind, digging up secret shames, buried thoughts and desperate dreams… he _couldn't_ do that. It's a horrible relief that he's not _expected_ to.

"That's why the concubinage laws are men-only, isn't it?" Tōka asks shrewdly.

"Yes," Izuna admits frankly. "The fox-spouse may well run for the hills one day, but they won't take a child with them."

"Have they ever _tried_?" Tobirama hears himself ask.

"Yes." Izuna's eyes turn faintly amused. "But with Senju Kabema and the records he left behind, I can't be _entirely_ sure the escape attempts were truly in earnest. He seemed to _enjoy_ making his wife chase him down, knock him silly and drag him back by the ankle."

Tōka makes a face. "I didn't _want_ to know that."

Tobirama isn't sure _he_ had wanted to know that either. He doesn't _want_ to think about that long-dead many-times-great-uncle that Izuna is descended from, who was locked in here before him –alone and forgotten by his clan– and made the choice to throw in with his enemies, to raise children with the Outguard Head; children who then went on to kill cousins and kinsmen.

Doesn't want to think about how he is walking in the footsteps of that kinsman, and may one day arrive where Kabema ended up. He is not so blind that he cannot recognise that it is a _possibility_. The few days when Izuna was finishing off Madara's mission so her brother could pursue vengeance for the mutilated dead were very telling in how _much_ worse for him things could become.

Or that Izuna knew it was possible too, knew it _better_ than him even, and deliberately had her own cousin drag Tōka into his gilded cage with him, to make sure he would not be broken as her ancestor was.

She doesn't _want_ to break him, no matter how convenient that would be. And Tobirama can't _not_ respond to that, can't _keep_ himself from caring, just a little. But it's not enough to keep him here, or even to keep him from killing her if he finds himself facing her on the battlefield after getting away. He'd make it quick and keep it clean, and he'd ache in his heart afterwards, but regret has never stayed his hand from duty before.

"Well then, chose your questions more carefully," Izuna teases gently. "Seeing as it's the Banner Festival in less than a week, I'll be getting the carp streamers out of storage and making sure they're in good shape. And no doubt being called on to resolve arguments and ensure everybody has the needed supplies for kashiwa-mochi and chimaki." She grins. "And there'll be a trip to Kōgei-gai to ensure I have everything for your very fine new outfit, of course."

The Senju don't celebrate the Banner Festival, but Tobirama does know vaguely what it's about. "Do you have a carp, or is it just your brothers who do?"

Izuna chuckles. "I'm a warrior, so I get a carp; my Hinamatsuri dolls haven't been out of storage since I was nine, and will stay there until I have a daughter of my own." She smiles, but it's faintly bittersweet. "Black for our Lord-Father, red for Madara-nii, blue for me and green for Saburō-kun; but when I retire I'll be taken off his carp streamer, and if I have a son I will get a carp streamer of my own come next summer."

It's a relief to know that Izuna _will_ be taking herself off the field now that her father has been pressured into writing that letter. "When are you retiring then?" Tobirama asks.

Izuna shrugs, setting her empty bowl down. "June, probably; I'll start showing then, after all. Biei-Fuji may have kept fighting until her chakra pooled in the fifth month, but I'd like to keep the truth of my gender quiet for a little longer, if I can. Also I'm not Outguard Head, so I can afford to step back and focus on training the next generation and raising my children."

As good as proof that so long as he is here, Izuna will never set foot in the field again; Tobirama pushes that thought to the back of his mind, committed to memory against dark days and hard nights. If all else fails and his brother's grand hopes come to nothing, this at least he can give his clan.

"Raising your brother's heirs, future Outguard Heads," Tōka says, brutally reminding him that despite Izuna retiring, Madara will _not_ and her children – _Tobirama's_ children– will be raised to follow in their uncle's footsteps.

"Just so," Izuna agrees. "Have you finished, Tobirama?"

Tobirama looks down at the remains of his fish, then mechanically shoves it into his mouth. It shouldn't be wasted.

* * *

"So, now that letter's sent," Tōka begins after Izuna has left to attend to various clan duties relating to the upcoming festival, "are you ready to talk about what your plans are for when your child's born? Seeing as you've got, oh about seven months until that happens now." She pauses. "And I _know_ you; you're going to be in trouble the moment it quickens, which is probably two months away."

His cousin's right, damn her. Not that he wasn't _already_ aware of how thoroughly caged he is, nor that he is running out of time if he wants to escape without tearing out his own heart in the name of duty. "What do you _want_ me to say?" Tobirama bites out, glaring venomously. "That I'm _sorry_ I bought your life with my body and seed? Because I'm _not_. Even if this ends with me spending the rest of my _life_ in a cage of silk and ink and you getting thrown at Hashirama a foot short when my _honoured_ father finally dies and Anija gets the clan then turns around and sues for peace, it was _worth it_."

Tōka's face twists into anguish. "Little cousin–"

"I've not been _little_ ," Tobirama interrupts sharply, "for _some time_ , Tōka."

His cousin winces. "I'm sorry Tobirama; that's unfair of me. I'm just worried about you; I know you want to go home."

"I'm _married_ , Tōka," Tobirama points out tiredly. "Izuna's right; if we get peace I might be allowed to visit, but to stay? No. If I run away from her I'd have to run all the way to Uzushio, then pray her kami-invoking fuuinjutsu can't get through their defences. I can't drag our coastal cousins into our feud, Tōka; they don't train warriors like we do." The Uzumaki are craftspeople and scholars more than anything else, for all they have warriors as well and their fuuinjutsu is formidable. But it is not intended for war, and Izuna for all her disinclination to kill is a warrior to her very bones.

If inflamed into fury –as he has seen other Uchiha be by loss– his Lord-Wife would be a _terrifying_ enemy. She could _already_ be so much worse if she were focused on destruction rather than minimising the loss to both clans by fighting him and him only whenever possible.

"And that's assuming the seal she put on me even lets me get _that_ far."

His cousin bites her lip. "The Uzumaki have Invocation specialists; they could look it over and maybe block it off."

Tobirama sighs. "Do you remember how Yori was introduced to me?" He's had time to think about this and has finally put the pieces together. It was not a _remotely_ comfortable revelation, as it clarifies how thoroughly he is shackled; Izuna is truly a Fuuinjutsu Master for his containment to be so elaborately varied in effect yet elegant in its simplicity.

Tōka hesitates.

"Yori of Inari, wife to Hikaku of Yatagarasu, Lineage Head," Tobirama quotes. "And Izuna mentioned once that the Deathblow is a 'General' as much as she and Madara are. Three generals, three of the four who have extra abilities none of the others do, and we _know_ that Madara and Izuna _both_ call those gigantic suits of chakra armour 'Susano-o'."

"What are you getting at, cousin?"

"I suspect Uchiha Hikaku's ability to break anything he pleases is something the Uchiha associate with Yatagarasu," Tobirama lays out bluntly, "and that's painted across my _spine_ , Tōka."

She pales to sickly grey.

"So I don't think I'm going _anywhere_ , cousin," Tobirama continues, "and if I try, I will likely never walk again. And I do _not_ want to be that dependent and vulnerable. At least this way I'm not _helpless_." He sighs. "I think the only way I'm getting free is if Izuna can be persuaded to release me. Which…"

Tōka's mouth firms up as she regains a little colour. "Legally, she's _required_ to keep you contained, because our clans are at war," she says steadily, "but if our clans are at _peace_ , then locking you up is inappropriate. A violation of terms, even."

Tobirama shrugs. "Maybe. If whoever writes the treaty includes a clause insisting on individuals in cross-clan marriages being allowed unhindered passage between our respective settlements, or some such." He doesn't think his father would bother and Tajima certainly won't. "Or insisting on an amnesty and release for all those held captive, and given my father's about to be told that I've _married_ into the Uchiha, I don't think he's going to immediately consider me a captive." Though Tobirama is very sure his father will try to retrieve him _anyway_ , if only to ensure he's not whispering clan secrets like sweet nothings in his wife's ear.

And, of course, to regain control over the best sensor in Fire Country and possibly the neighbouring nations as well; Tobirama knows his worth to his father.

"There's more to the clan than your father," Tōka argues; "you don't think Obaasan would just let him _leave_ you here, do you? Never mind _my_ parents; you're the only one who can talk sense into Hashirama. If _they_ knew, they would certainly argue your case!"

Tobirama lets his gaze flatten. "I'll write them a letter, shall I?" He drawls. "Maybe get one of the Deathblow's crows to deliver it?" As though he might _ever_ have access to writing materials, let alone the use of a messenger.

"No need to be _mean_ , cousin."

"You've got two broken legs, yet you are _more mobile_ than I am," Tobirama says bitterly. "Though Izuna may well stick a seal on you too while she's delaying your maiming. After all, she's got to _ensure_ you don't pose a threat to the clan while you're recovering." With that he picks up the rare character guide and the oldest court transcript volume and shuts himself in the fusuma room.

He's not in the mood for any more conversation today.

* * *

The next morning he dumps Tōka in the tatami room early and when Izuna arrives with breakfast, tells her through the closed fusuma that he doesn't want to see her.

He's not sure whether to be offended or gratified when she accepts that and promptly leaves. She doesn't come back later either.

He goes to bed irritable and wakes up grumpy. He's wrestling with his hair in the tatami room after his morning wash when he hears voices; _unfamiliar_ voices.

"–oing to do, yell at the building until somebody sticks their head out the shōji?" asks a tired male voice.

"Izuna-bi is having one of those _scary_ moods," says a younger voice with the rough edges of puberty still not sanded down. "You _know_ the ones."

There's a pause in the footsteps. "With the phantoms?"

"The _singing_ phantoms, yes," says the younger voice, sounding utterly exasperated. "And they're _new_ songs. _Bad_ songs. The kind that say she's looking at her father's path and weighing her odds."

Tobirama feels a chill trickle down his spine. He has been so utterly frustrated with his imprisonment in the past few days that he forgot he is _not_ without influence. Also, singing ghosts? Izuna is _haunted?_ That doesn't sound quite right, but he's aware the Diplomatic Quarters have fuuinjutsu to repel ghosts and that the Uchiha believe whole-heartedly in such things.

"So yes, I _am_ going to stand outside the fence and throw temari at the shōji until he opens them," the young voice continues determinedly, "because I don't _care_ if he's the Drowning Breath, he's _married,_ she's _pregnant_ and he's smart enough to know this _isn't okay_."

Tobirama… hadn't known the Uchiha called him that. Of all the things in the _world_ to name him after, off all his many skills and deeds, they name him for his ability to overwhelm the chakra of weaker warriors and pull the water from their blood into their lungs? Why _that_ of all things?

Because that is what they fear about him most, logic immediately supplies. Uchiha favour five, and fire depends on breath. He drowns their warriors on land, in the midst of battle; of _course_ that is what they fear the most.

There's a faint sigh. "I am going to stay to watch, just so I can assure the Amaterasu Head you were _supervised_ ," the older voice says tiredly. "And don't expect to get the temari back."

"I made sure nobody minded losing these ones," the younger voice says, somewhat offended, "and the cats will enjoy them either way."

"Don't break the shōji, don't bruise the concubine," the older voice says, still tired. "If Izuna-bi's in a _mood_ , then she might forget to be careful. And she's already feeling bad enough as it is."

"My aim is not _that_ poor."

There's a pause for maybe three seconds, then there's a loud thump that rattles the shōji. Tobirama teases the comb out of his hair, gets up, straightens his kimono and walks up to the panel that rattled, then flinches slightly as it does so _again_ , something small but fairly soft impacting with the frame.

He opens the shōji cautiously, aware that he's wearing a green silk kimono that's no protection against a sword or a fireball; on the far side of the fence are _three_ people, not just two.

Tallest is an older man in a pine-needle green kimono with one empty sleeve tucked neatly into his obi and a streak of white in his hair that begins at the top of the scar almost bisecting his face. Smallest is a little girl just out of toddlerhood in a pink version of Uchiha work-wear resist-printed with nadeshiko flowers, a basket as tall as her waist in front of her and a brown and cream temari in her hand.

The boy with them is maybe thirteen at _best_ , despite his deeper voice suggesting he could be older; he's wearing brown printed with skeletal hares, not indigo. He has the raw leanness of being midway through a growth spurt, but also all the softness of childhood painted over the promise of a strongly angular face.

"You knocked?" Tobirama says dryly, glancing down at the two temari now lying on the engawa. One of them is indigo with red accents, the other yellow and green stripes.

"Yeah," the teenager says defiantly. "Be nicer to Izuna-sama; Tajima-sama's already making her life awful and he doesn't need your help. She's having _your baby_ , you should be _supporting_ her not making her sing songs that are just marriage arguments with self-loathing oozing between the lines. I mean," the boy's eyes narrow, "if you _want_ her to grow up to be Tajima-sama come again, bitter as bile and sharp as a hiltless blade, then you need to know that means _nobody_ will be safe. Tajima-sama executed his little brother for treason, you know; Madara-sama and Izuna-sama were _there_ and Izuna-sama was _twelve_."

Frost chokes Tobirama's lungs at the thought of his father murdering his uncle. He can't _imagine_ it. And Izuna defies her father _regularly,_ knowing that?!

"How do _you_ know that?" he manages.

The boy snorts. "Taka-ba was _there_. She's Izuna-sama's genjutsu sempai; she says you're not worth much, but I thought you might care a _bit_ , what with being _married_ to Izuna-sama and all."

The middle-aged Uchiha nominally supervising is pinching the bridge of his nose with his only hand, but he isn't saying anything.

"You think I _want_ to be married to Izuna-san?" Tobirama hears himself ask.

"I don't actually care," the boy says flatly. "You _are_ and that should _mean_ something. It means something to Izuna-sama after all, that you turning her away makes her so sad. And her son deserves better than having a mother like Tajima-sama, and so does the clan."

Oh to be a child and think 'deserve' means _anything_. "Why do you think she's having a son?" It could just as easily be a daughter. He knows Senju and Uzumaki mothers run to girls; he's not aware of the exact details but he's heard enough to realise that when a woman has high levels of yang chakra, she is more likely to miscarry a son than a daughter. Uchiha may well lean yin, but Izuna's chakra is very strong and fairly balanced.

The boy rolls his eyes. "She's been drinking so many fertility tinctures Yori-sama thinks she's probably going to have _twins_ ; there'll be a son. And if you don't care about Izuna-sama, think about what a future Outguard Head with a mother whose heart is sharpened steel and who has _you_ for a father will do to the Senju."

Oh, that _hurts_. Tobirama can _see_ that, can see the pain and fury and bitterness such a parentage would nurture, and who the child would blame for it.

"Fine," he says, suddenly tired of it all. "Tell my Lord-Wife I would have her visit me."

The boy grins, suddenly charming. "At once, Tobirama-sama." He turns and dashes off.

By the time Tobirama can process that he's been called 'sama' by an Uchiha – _sincerely_ even– the man and the girl with the basket of temari have also disappeared. All he has to prove that wasn't a hallucination are the two temari lying on the engawa.

He takes them inside and goes to fetch wash-water for Tōka; she'll probably want to stay in the fusuma room for this, however it goes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating twice weekly all through January, on Mondays and Thursdays.

The first thing Tobirama says when Izuna steps into the hall from the genkan, dressed in indigo work-wear with chakra closed and eyes cautiously hopeful, is "Can you comb my hair, please?"

He then immediately feels deeply stupid, but Izuna's eyes soften slightly and she takes the comb from him. "Of course, Treasure."

Tobirama decides that's as good a start as any, turns and walks into the middle of the tatami room then settles on one of the two cushions he's laid out. Izuna sits on the other one; Tobirama promptly leans forward and rests his forehead against her shoulder.

He feels the hopeful flutter in her chakra as she begins to untangle his unruly curls and doesn't know if he's delighted or despairing.

"Do I want to know how you came to talk to Oshiki-kun?" Izuna murmurs as she begins to make headway through the tangled ends currently knotted around his shoulders. He didn't braid his hair last night; a _very_ foolish decision.

"Probably not," Tobirama admits, eyes closed; he will remember Oshiki's name. The boy will grow into somebody to watch out for and creativity in Uchiha bodes poorly for Senju. "He definitely bent your rules a little."

"How exactly?" Izuna asks, tone studiously idle and hands steady.

"He threw temari at the shōji until I opened them to see what was going on." Tobirama replies, careful to keep his own tone light. "I overheard him say he was going to do it, so it didn't startle me."

Izuna huffs, half pain and half amusement. "Well that's certainly creative."

The quiet that follows is more restful than awkward, filled with the soft rustle of hair, the scrape of the comb and both of their breathing. Tobirama feels his nerves settle further.

"Next time I tell you I don't want to see you," he says quietly after a long, comfortable pause, "don't go so far that I can't find you if I change my mind." He can't exactly track her down; can't even walk into the rigorously aesthetic garden that surrounds the building. What _is_ he supposed to do if he wants Izuna to talk to him? Yowl? Wait and hope _somebody_ shows up eventually?

Izuna's chakra stutters more clearly into sensory range, pain tangled with hope and circled by faint strands of amusement. "I will remember that you are contrary as a Cat, Treasure," she promises, bending down to kiss the top of his head as her hands ease his unruly curls into order.

There is another comfortable pause. Izuna works up his hair on one side to the point that the comb is stroking across his scalp.

"I also overheard something that… concerned me," Tobirama admits quietly.

"What was it?"

"Oshiki-kun said you were haunted. Something about singing ghosts?"

"Ah. Yes, I forget how unsettling people find that."

As answers go, that's fairly ominous. He's _still_ not sure if the sharingan lets Uchiha see ghosts or if they have some other means of detecting them, but for a shinobi to be _haunted?_ That's not something he wants to really contemplate. "Will my wife explain herself a little further? For my peace of mind?"

"Of course. Since you're asking." She pauses. "I will say first that genjutsu is a… possibly unwise foundation for fuuinjutsu, and yet also a highly _effective_ one. However the interactions can be a little unnerving, even for the creator."

She pauses again. "You know I sing. But sometimes a single song, a single _voice_ , is not enough. Sometimes the emotions that clamour pull in several ways at once, and each voice must be pulled out and confronted, either singly or all together. Sometimes the song is a duet, or a chorus, or simply several voices singing to the same tune but with words at cross-purposes. And when it is like that, it's easier to give each voice its own place to stand, so I can hear them with my ears and not just echoing in the hallways of my mind."

"Genjutsu, but also fuuinjutsu?" Tobirama agrees, that does sound like a _singularly_ terrifying combination. He knows quite a bit about genjutsu from Tōka and fighting Izuna is an education in itself, but adding fuuinjutsu to that?

"Genjutsu, in that the apparition is an illusion," Izuna confirms, "but fuuinjutsu in that it is anchored so cannot be dispelled, and has a degree of independence."

"That sounds terrifying." Even though it also sounds like Izuna is only using them to provide herself with a full theatre cast for her musical performances; no _actual_ ghosts haunting her.

"I think what upsets my clan the most is that such do not require sharingan to conjure up, and are still _visible_ to sharingan," his wife muses, pausing in her combing to twist the liberated curls together so they hang neatly. "Most illusions are not so tangible."

"And you do not use them in battle?"

"To do what? Provide background music?" The idea seems to amuse her greatly, going by the inner glee briefly overlaid on the still-present pain. "I've already told you I don't want to twist my own mind into horrors Tobirama; there're enough horrors outside of it without my snuffing out the light I use to see by." She moves to a different section of his head.

Tobirama lets the quiet drag out again, letting the gentle attention to his hair soothe him and untangle his heart as much as his curls.

"I had a difficult conversation with my cousin," he says. "I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

The soft relief in her chakra soothes much of the pain, but does not dispel it. "I am sorry that it is not possible to give you both more space."

Tobirama is reminded –again– that Uchiha Tajima very much does _not_ want them to be here, for all that he will likely be manipulating the situation to his advantage regardless. Izuna's abduction of Tobirama might be welcomed as an efficient reversal of the Senju's primacy in the field, but her _marriage_ to him is very clearly _not_ the path the Uchiha Outguard Head had in mind for his only daughter.

Which reminds him: "How is your father reacting now that he _has_ written that letter?"

The ache that shivers through her chakra tells him plenty even before she answers. "He is again reminding me of my absolute _folly_ in not only wedding and bedding a clan enemy, but of trying to make _peace_ with the same clan as I have stolen myself a concubine from." She sighs. "But when another Lineage Head suggested this was the perfect time to carry out a final strike on the Senju, he viciously dissected and dismissed such as 'comprehensive tactical suicide' then reminded all present that he has _full_ and _sole_ authority over our clan's military decisions, so he is at least willing to let my folly play out in the interests of maintaining the moral advantage before the daimyo."

Yes, that too is a game board Tobirama has never given much thought to. By wedding Tobirama into the Uchiha –to his own daughter– and not immediately pursuing the complete annihilation of the Senju, Tajima _does_ appear to be attempting to reconcile and end the feud. If Tobirama's father –who has never given much thought to court politics beyond the necessity of paying tax to the daimyo and accepting those missions where the clan is 'offered' campaigns in his name– appears to spurn such advances, then Tajima will have the freedom to dispose of the Senju as he pleases with the daimyo's tacit approval.

Izuna's decision to make him her concubine is truly a masterpiece; even in the loss of one objective, the others are still achieved by default due to easily predicted reactions _to_ that loss from third parties. However he can admire her tactical acumen later.

"You are a grown woman; a married woman, even. You should not have to suffer such criticism in your own home. Is there nowhere else you can live?" He has not lived in the same building as his father since he was seventeen and been much more at peace for it. It also made it less awkward to spend time with his summons, because they have been shamelessly advocating for patricide since he was sixteen and refuse to stop.

Yes, he has a great _many_ less than noble ulterior motives for encouraging the rift between Izuna and her father. However that does not make him _wrong_.

She actually pauses, hands stilling. "Actually yes I do," she says, firmly resuming her combing. "Thank you Tobirama; I will start that today. You are right, I should _not_ have to suffer such relentless criticism of my choices and priorities in my own home. I am an adult and the Head of my Lineage; my personal decisions are my own to make and not his concern until and unless they stray into military purview."

Her chakra shifts as well, into the steady hum of complex thought and determination; Tobirama lets satisfaction in this small victory wash over him in time with the scrape of comb tines against his scalp. A little thing perhaps, an insignificant thing she might well have arrived at by herself in a few more days or weeks, but it is the thin end of a long wedge and that is enough to begin with.

* * *

Izuna meticulously restores his hair to order, then keeps going with the comb over his scalp until he has been reduced to a loose-limbed puddle in her lap. A _purring_ puddle, which would be more mortifying if Izuna had reacted in any way at _all_ , but she didn't. She just accepted it without a twitch and so Tobirama refuses to be ashamed; he will certainly be having _words_ with his summons about this if he ever sees them again, but this was not his choice so he's not going to let anybody make him feel like he shouldn't be doing it.

Also Izuna's well-shrouded inner pain began actively fading when he started purring, which was vaguely fascinating to sense. He'll have to investigate later whether purring actually has any medically detectable effects. Or _other_ effects he can exploit in bed, which is a thought he attributes to Izuna's shameless influence.

"I still owe you your hair bribe," Izuna muses as she finally exchanges the comb for gently pressing fingertips that send warm shivers across his scalp and down his spine. It feels so _good_.

Tobirama's mind grudgingly rolls into motion; oh yes, he'd been promised a 'truly expensive' kimono. "Is it finished then?"

"Mmhn. I was going to give it to you yesterday."

She showed up with a gift and he didn't even _look_ at her when telling her to go away; Tobirama suddenly feels _terrible_. He sits up properly, for eye-contact. She deserves that much at the very least. "I'm sorry. I treated you very badly yesterday."

"You did," she agrees steadily. "But forgiving it is my choice."

Izuna, he is again reminded, makes _no_ sense. But she is at least consistent in her mystery. "You don't have to give it to me; I like the change in my hair, and you are doing most of the work anyway."

She smiles at him. "Tobirama, my treasure, I _like_ giving you things. If _you_ don't like receiving things I can tone it down a bit, but it is truly a joy to puzzle out gifts you will like. Seeing your pleasure in receiving them, your comfort in making _use_ of them, is a joy that is never going to go away. It is in no way an imposition."

Tobirama would mind it _less_ if there were things he could do for her in return, but he doesn't want to make the growing intimacy between them about _payment_ –no matter _what_ he says to Tōka– and doing anything _else_ for her has to be planned rather than spontaneous and he needs to ask her for the tools beforehand, which rather defeats the purpose.

Getting her to see she needs to get out of her father's house _might_ qualify, but he's fairly sure she'd have got there herself in a few more days anyway. Izuna is nobody's fool and old enough to want her own space to raise her eventual child in, space beyond her father's immediate authority and sight.

Wait a moment. There _is_ something he could do _now_.

"Can I comb _your_ hair?"

Izuna's eyes widen, that alluring glimpse of wonder that he has only managed to surprise out of her a few times. "If you want to?"

"I do," Tobirama decides firmly, taking the comb from her unresisting fingers. "Bend down so I can take your hair-cords out."

She does so, and then Tobirama gets to enjoy the pleasure of having his wife melt against _him_ as he runs the comb firmly over her scalp and down the thick, long, sleek and only very slightly waving strands with ridiculous ease. Her hair is not so fine as Hashirama's, nor so wild as Madara's; somewhere in the middle and surprisingly well-behaved.

He will definitely be doing this again. "Will you teach me how to do your hair?" He asks; that is something he _could_ do for her regularly. It will make them more equal, in a sense.

"As you wish, Treasure," Izuna murmurs, her voice deep and sleepy enough to _almost_ be a purr. "Anything else I can give you?"

Oh, now _that_ is a question to tempt even the most resolute heart, and Tobirama can admit he's developing a weakness for Izuna's willingness to let him have his way with her. Even when it involves him leaving the imprint of his teeth in tender places; he's well aware that's not the _normal_ kind of bedroom play.

"Isn't that my question?" He asks, letting his own voice go deep and soft. "I am your concubine after all; surely I should be asking what it is _I_ can do that would _please_ you."

Izuna snorts, tilting her head so as to meet his eye with one of hers, her hair half-veiling her face. "Anything you give freely and kindly, Treasure."

He's weak. He's so _weak_ and worse, it's doesn't feel _wrong_. He _wants_ to give, wants to _take_ in turn and make _more_ between them as hearts race and lungs gasp and chakra shudders.

"You asked what _I_ want," he manages, knowing he's not hiding much right now.

"I did," she agrees, watching him with a hopeful expectancy coiling in her chakra.

"I want to lay you out on _your_ bed for once," he tells her, "I want to be brought into your bedroom, so I can pin you to your futon and ensure you can _never_ sleep there again without remembering my lips on your skin, my hands on your wrists, my body tangled in your sheets." His futon _smells_ like Izuna now, like her skin and her pleasure; he has no escape from her anymore, not even in sleep. The least he can do is return the favour.

Izuna smells like she likes that idea, but also like barely-suppressed amusement. "I think this one will have to wait until I've sorted out that house of my own, Treasure," She manages, voice wobbling and tattoo crinkling.

"What, you don't want your father to overhear you moaning my name?"

Izuna giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth. "If it were just _that_ it wouldn't be a problem. But Tobirama, I share a futon with _both_ my brothers."

The mental image of Madara's _face_ were he to get back from his current mission to find out his sister had taken advantage of his absence to fuck her concubine in _his_ _bed_ –

Tobirama bursts out laughing, wrapping his arms around Izuna to steady himself; she joins him in laughing pretty much immediately.

"So yes," she finally, eventually manages, after many false starts and relapses into further cackling on both sides, "when I have my own house and a new futon, you can help me break it in. I promise."

"I will look forward to it," Tobirama assures her unevenly, trying desperately not to break down in sniggering again.

"So for the time being," Izuna continues, mirth still ringing in her chakra and her stunning smile, "how about I go change and fetch the tea things, so I can make you some before lunch and give you your new outfit." Her eyes sparkle. "Up to you whether Tōka gets to share any of that."

"She can have some tea," Tobirama decides, feeling a bit more charitable after having a good laugh, "and she'll see the kimono eventually anyway, so she may as well be present for the giving."

"As you wish," Izuna agrees, loose hair falling forwards as she leans in to kiss him.

* * *

When she returns with the tea and that large bag, Izuna is wearing a deceptively plain kimono and matching hakama in true purple, the costly murasaki shade that up until reading the Uchiha legal code Tobirama had believed was for the daimyo _only_.

Actual wording turns out to be, 'forbidden to be worn publically by those ranking below the Hanke kuge,' which excludes everybody in Fire Country who is not part of the daimyo's line… other than the Uchiha, who are Urinke kuge, two steps higher up the imperial hierarchy than the Abe whom the Fire Daimyo's Kurahashi Clan claim descent from.

Sumptuary laws in other Elemental Nations are different, but generally speaking it is _still_ only daimyo, their spouse and their immediate relatives who wear silk dyed with the precious murasaki root, of which a great deal is required to dye even a single skein and which fades swiftly when worn out of doors.

It is more lushly vibrant a shade than the deep purple he has seen Izuna wearing before, and he's privately a little horrified that this outfit –which is essentially formal warrior garb complete with a matching stiff obi– evidently _is_ intended as outdoor wear. That is _shockingly_ extravagant.

"Something the matter, Tobirama?"

She cannot _possibly_ be this disingenuous. "Aren't you worried the silk will fade?"

Izuna smirks. "Things that give a person leeway with one's father: hiden jutsu that _prevent_ sun-fading."

Tobirama feels his jaw drop slightly. The Uchiha are sitting on a _goldmine;_ the daimyo's wife _will_ pay several times her own weight in gold for a single plain purple kimono that can be safely worn out of doors. As will various other daimyo once they hear about it.

That makes Izuna's choice of purple for day-wear _slightly_ less extravagant, but not by much; it does not change the _cost_ of the garment, merely its lifespan. He wonders if it is fuuinjutsu, an actual chakra technique of a combination of the two; however he does not _ask_. There is no way Izuna will tell him –or _anybody_ not already involved in the process– as that would risk the Uchiha's exclusivity. That she is calling it a secret technique without further details says that much.

"Now, I shall serve tea first –I brought fresh senbei– and then once fortified I will give you your gifts." The gleam in Izuna's eye says that Tobirama is going to _need_ the fortification. Which –given that she's just showed up in a very fashionably subdued outfit that probably cost more than all his grandmother's wardrobe put together– bodes rather ominously.

The tea is the last of the shincha; the senbei are fresh and still warm. Tobirama makes an effort to enjoy both rather than speculate about his upcoming gift, which seeing as Izuna is wearing _that_ –he _did_ ask her to dress according to the occasion and she has been doing so very meticulously ever since– is probably finer than anything he's ever seen before in his _life_.

Once the first round of tea is drunk Tobirama goes to wash his hands, returning to find Tōka with a fresh cupful from the recharged leaves and Izuna waiting smugly with a most intimidating _stack_ of individually cloth-wrapped packages.

"So," Izuna begins as he settles himself on his cushion and smoothes the fish-painted silk over his knees, "I promised you expensive, and I promised you court-quality. This is visiting wear as opposed to a proper court tomesode, because I am not presenting you to the daimyo in a hanging-sleeve kimono unless you specifically _ask_ me to."

Tobirama is very grateful for that _indeed_. His fashionable new willow kimono has been somewhat adjusted, but the fact remains that the wide sleeves _cannot_ be fully attached without obstructing the wider obi and the laundress refuses to actively shorten them, so a degree of flutter remains unavoidable. He asked, at least.

"I'm starting in the middle this time," Izuna says brightly, passing him a package; his fingers slide over hers as he accepts it.

Tobirama opens the outer dragonfly-print wrapping cloth to reveal washi wrapped around a plain-weave kimono in triangle-print arterial-vermillion red and light yellow, simple yet bold and complimenting the rest of the clothing he has been given so far. This is well-suited for everyday wear, so is evidently intended as a dōnuki for this particular outfit; the sleeves however are… fairly wide, with a modest hanging section.

He eyes Izuna, who looks back at him with an expression that is _far_ too innocent to be genuine. "This is a very fine kimono; I shall enjoy wearing it." The colour family is actually very similar to the shrimp kimono, so will go with the same obi. It is lined in undyed silk, which after the recent avalanche of pink is a great relief.

Izuna hums, delight and anticipation bubbling in her chakra, then gives him the next parcel.

This one contains a _pink_ kimono. However it is a fine pale sakura-pink, such as is traditionally used for the uniforms of high-ranking military samurai, so Tobirama can let that slide. _Unfolding_ the kimono however reveals that it is extensively embroidered on the upper back, sleeves and front with a vibrant ice-white-and-bamboo-green dragon that coils protectively around his upper body amidst clouds in all the vivid colours of the dawn, and an asymmetric landscape of mountains, wooded hills and rivers on the section below his hips.

The sleeves also hang, but no more than the printed kimono. The embroidery, while painstaking and in a myriad of brilliant colours, contains less gold and silver leaf than it might; while costly, it is by no means _excessive_. Which means that, alarmingly, this is _another_ dōnuki; one fine enough to count as a visiting kimono all by itself.

"This is very beautiful; the embroidery is stunning."

Izuna smiles, tattoo crinkling. "I will inform the clanswomen who did the work of your appreciation."

Tobirama feels his eyes widen as they drop to the kimono again; yes, this _is_ in the same style as Izuna and Madara's coat linings, but he did not realise it immediately because the _entire_ design is embroidered, rather than the embroidery being merely accents and detailing on underlying patchwork.

The subtle shading of the reds inside the dragon's mouth is _exquisite_.

"I am honoured to be gifted with the hard work of your kinswomen," he murmurs.

"Your kin as well, now," Izuna reminds him mildly. "Why would I turn elsewhere when Uchiha embroidery is finer than anything that can be bought at _any_ price?"

Tobirama would never have considered _embroidery_ to be something that an Uchiha might turn their vaunted eyesight and bloodline to, but now he is _looking_ at the results he can admit that indeed, there _is_ nothing finer to be found in all the Elemental Nations.

"I have never seen anything so fine," he admits. "Though I will confess to never having been to court." He pauses; what else can he… oh yes: "I will enjoy wearing this as an outer later; it will look very good with my damask obi, if I wear it with the crabs on the inside." The simple blue waves will look most pleasing with a kimono this busy.

Izuna's eyes are faintly mischievous as she hands him the next parcel; a slightly smaller one, so possibly an obi?

It is indeed an obi; a _murasaki purple_ obi, although the actual purple dye covers less than half the fabric because the rest is thickly patterned with tiny shibori forming an incredibly subtle maple-leaf pattern that is almost invisible at first glance. It is also embroidered _over_ the shibori on the section of the obi evidently intended to form a drum-bow, in _golden thread_ forming arrowhead leaves, camellia flowers and a trailing spray of wisteria, texture and detailing provided in silver and cream; this obi probably cost more than _both_ kimono together, discounting the time that went into the embroidery on the sakura kimono of course.

"This will look very good with both the kimono you have given me today, and also with the shrimp kimono," Tobirama says a little faintly. The warm colours of the dawn sky –along with plenty of purple and a few cooler shades in the detailing– form a colour scheme that is called 'fragrant' and conveys a sense of nobility and elegance. It could _also_ be worn with his brown or willow-green kimono, as a completely different aesthetic scheme that is called 'contentment' and revolves around autumnal shades. Izuna is evidently working _very_ hard to ensure he can get the most use out of his swiftly-expanding wardrobe as possible.

He runs his fingertips over the dimpled texture of the shibori, which is always maintained as much as possible to give the garment character. The complexity of it –soft, yet somehow stiff and textured– is almost soothing. The obi is made of a single piece of cloth, so it is that same sumptuous purple on both sides. Not embroidered with _actual_ gold, but threads dyed that exact colour with the lustre of the silk creating an almost metallic gleam.

"I will enjoy wearing it."

Izuna's smile is small, but it has _intensity_. The next parcel she hands him is large, wrapped in a black cloth printed with very subtle grey bats.

Tobirama unwraps it carefully, then the washi layer, to reveal–

–purple silk. So _much_ purple silk. Tobirama picks up the pairs of tabi and carefully sets them aside, a tiny voice inside his head _screaming_ at the thought of wearing something _this expensive_ on his _feet_.

"Seriously?!" He demands.

"You are my concubine," Izuna says steadily, wickedness dancing in her chakra but both tone and intent utterly clear. "You are _Uchiha_. I am the Head of our clan's oldest and most prominent lineage, able to claim the title of 'Imperial Highness;' I have _every_ right to dress you in every shade of noble purple and imperial gold from head to foot. I won't," she says with a sharp grin, "but only because that would be _tacky_."

"The kami forbid you ever be so lacking in good taste," Tobirama says faintly, looking back down at the parcel of silk in his lap. A nagajuban, a plain unlined silk crepe layer to go next to his _skin_ , dyed in a lush, vibrant murasaki purple; this alone _will_ have cost more that his painted fish kimono. And nobody except him and her will _ever_ see more than the thinnest sliver of the collar and sleeve-cuffs.

She had promised him expensive; evidently he had misjudged what the word actually _means_ to somebody of noble extraction. Every piece before this was _already_ more than he had been expecting, but _this_ …

It's not just one nagajuban; there are _two_. Between them they no doubt outweigh the cost of the _entire_ rest of his wardrobe, even without adding in the three pairs of tabi.

The creeping realisation that Izuna has spent more on his _underclothing_ than a lot of nobles have available for their _entire wardrobes_ in a year is… well, Tobirama can't say he's not a little gleeful. He's had wealthy merchants and various noble clients look down their noses at him and his clan over the years, always trying to con the Senju out of money hard-earned in blood and death, and now _any_ outfit with this as the foundation layer will by _default_ be more valuable and prestigious than all their gold and silver leaf and multicoloured embroidery.

The warmth in his gut acquires an incredulously wicked tinge as he realises something _else_ :

"Izuna, does _anybody_ wear murasaki-dyed nagajuban?"

"Of course not," Izuna replies, smile bright and eyes knowing. "So much time and money to dye so much silk so expensively, and to then never _display_ it, save as a tiny slither at the neckline? Who would _ever_ do such a thing? Those who have restricted the right to wear true purple want others to _know_ and _see_ the fruits of their privilege."

Tobirama laughs; it's slightly hysterical but he doesn't care, he's earned it. This is just so _Izuna_ , to lavish him with extravagance that nobody else is ever going to see, or even if they do will not _recognise_. Anybody _sensible_ seeing the hint of purple at his throat and wrists will assume that it's a detachable collar and sleeves sewn over a plain undergarment, because that is the _obvious_ and _sensible_ assumption. But no, Izuna has bought for him a _full-length nagajuban_ in silk crepe of the second-most costly and restricted purple shade, outranked only by the deeper purple shade he's seen her wearing on other days.

How can he _not_ feel giddy, horrified, _delighted_ at this extravagant subversion; how can he not recognise that Izuna has taken his playful and barely-serious demand for bribery as an opportunity to spend a truly _shocking_ amount of money –and people will _know_ that Uchiha Izuna has been buying so much purple silk– while also subtly poking fun at the daimyo for restricting purple in the first place, along with lightly mocking _everybody_ who will later see Tobirama wearing these clothes.

"My thanks for your generosity; I shall look forward to wearing these." Off to one side Tōka's chakra bounces from stunned shock into confusion before settling into low-level bemused horror, but Tobirama doesn't care about that; he still owes his cousin a bad turn for pushing when she _knew_ he didn't want to talk about things.

"And I shall look forward to seeing you in them," his wife says sweetly. Tobirama's treacherous brain _instantly_ conjures up the image of him wearing _just_ the purple nagajuban in the fusuma room as Izuna undresses out of that severe yet luxurious outfit for him; he stomps it down _hard_ , but by the dark glint in Izuna's eye, he's pretty sure she noticed.

"Two kimono, an obi and new nagajuban and tabi," he says instead as he folds the garments up again; "an entire outfit and more expensive than any you have given me before; so what are the other parcels?"

Izuna smirks at him. "Expensive perhaps but not _truly_ expensive, and certainly not worthy of you quite yet, Treasure." She picks up the next parcel –one of the two large ones– and holds it out to him.

Tobirama takes it, deliberately caressing her fingers as they slide through his grip and maintaining eye-contact. She stares right back, then pointedly drops her gaze to the parcel; Tobirama sets it on his lap –peony purple wrap; Izuna's gone a bit mad with purples it would seem– and unwraps it.

Silk wrapping cloth set aside, washi unfolded and Tobirama pauses at the sight of yet _more_ purple. Not the costly murasaki shade this time, but the exact colour of asters in a subtle interlocking geometric damask and lined with that now-familiar ibis-wing pink. He unfolds the kimono carefully, revealing a design both painted _and_ embroidered with copious actual gold and silver leaf detailing.

Tall blue-green and cream bamboo stands proudly up the right edge of the front lower panel, occasional leaves edged or entirely filled with gold-wrapped thread to imitate sunlight, an artfully irregular stand of many-leaved spikes draped in silver dew-laced cobwebs that stretch across the lower edge to catch the top of a bushy hollyhock with stylised heart-shaped leaves in green and cream, also gold-chased, and shimmer across between the petals of a thicket of large, vibrant peonies all in different shades of red, pink and purple, every stem golden.

In among the peonies are chrysanthemums, imperial orange and shining gold with shadowed stems and leaves in pale grey-blue, and more hollyhock leaves twining around the base of the stems and fallen blossoms and petals both are strewn across the lower edge of the decorative section, reaching across to the neighbouring panel and more silver cobweb strands glinting behind and around them.

The lavish flowers backed by elegant bamboo spikes and chased below and in between by hollyhock leaves form a vaguely triangular sweep across the bottom half of the kimono, from the lower edge of the collar by the right hip across the back of the legs to finish half-way down the shin on the usually-hidden right front panel, the lower edges of the design around ankle level a little above the hem. Purple-blue swallows dance in pairs all along that artfully irregular descending curve, some tiny silhouettes and others clearly embroidered in exquisite detail, a graded swirl of them among more gilded flowers and leaves right over where his heart would be, silver-beaded cobwebs holding the design together.

The pattern is repeated on the front of the left sleeve –which hangs quite a _lot_ but less than he's seen on some married women– and across the back of the right shoulder and right sleeve, all elaborate dyes and clever embroidery with more gold and silver thread –real metals, not just dyed silks– than he can recall ever seeing on one garment. The Senju don't tend to get contracts which give them access to the Fire Court and the upper nobility, or even to rich young merchant maidens in their best furisode.

"This design is incredibly beautiful," he eventually manages to say, dragging his gaze away from the swirling dynamic balance of so many colours and shades into a gloriously harmonious whole that complements and picks up the colours of all the other layers he has been given today.

Izuna goes a little pink. "Thank you; I was hoping you'd like it."

Tobirama easily reads _that_ nuance. "You _designed_ this?"

She grins at him bashfully. "And the fish kimono, and the dragon-over-mountains pattern of the sakura kimono; I like art and I'm pretty good at it. I designed my own coat lining pattern, in fact."

His jaw has dropped; Tobirama closes his mouth and tries to regroup mentally, but he keeps circling back to the fact that Izuna was _involved_ in creating the fish kimono, and in two of his newest ones as well. She may not have done _all_ the making, but they are no less the work of her own mind and hands for that.

Heat trembles in his gut and the pit of his chest feels raw and tender.

"You have an eye for it," he manages, then feels foolish. He tries again: "Did you steal _all_ the artistic sensibilities that were available for yourself and your siblings, as well as all the social graces?"

Izuna chuckles. "Madara-nii is actually fairly good at ink-painting, although I'll agree he's not the best with more than two colours at a time."

"However it _won't_ go with the obi you have given me," Tobirama hears himself say.

"No, it won't," Izuna says smugly, tapping the largest remaining package.

That's an obi? Well, it could feasibly be _two_ obi…

It's wrapped in a vibrant red cloth with a circle of gold plum blossom embroidery in the middle. Tobirama unfolds it carefully –this shade of red is kara-kurenai, made of costly safflower blossoms that are usually only used in a concentration strong enough to dye fabric pink– than, after setting it aside, unfolds the washi as well.

What is revealed is just… Tobirama gapes.

" _Why?"_ The word is torn from his throat as he stares desperately at Izuna, trying to _understand_.

Izuna smiles at him, soft and perilously kind. "There's a reason I told you it would take a month to produce something worthy of you, Treasure."

 _Worthy?_ How is he worth, worth _this?_ "I don't believe," Tobirama manages, "that adding up every mission I've ever taken could match _this_ in value."

It is _brocade_. Metres and metres and _metres_ of figured brocade, in a pattern that repeats _nowhere_ and is woven double-width so as to be subtly stitched around a stiffer core. Ivy, thin-petalled chrysanthemums, plum blossom and trailing wisteria in shades of orange, pink, cream and purple surround bold circles formed by golden-scaled dragons, vibrantly multi-hued phoenixes and pairs of cranes, koi and swallows, no two pairs of which are the same colour or general shape; not even when comparing the two _sides_ of the obi.

"If you'd offered the money you spent on all this to my father, you could have bought _me_."

Izuna snorts. "Surely not," she dismisses with an eyeroll, but Tobirama isn't so sure: there is true murasaki in here along with costly pinks and tiny accents of expensive greens, and real gold and silver besides. Izuna could have bought a _campaign_ for just this obi, _surely_.

It is _six metres long_.

"I thought the crab obi was long," he manages; "how is this _longer_?"

Izuna shifts slightly. Tobirama narrows his eyes at her.

"Well," Izuna begins, "as a concubine, there _are_ certain dress requirements to distinguish you from full spouses when visiting other nobility or attending court functions."

"Go on," Tobirama invites cautiously.

"There are a range of sumptuary limitations which as an Uchiha concubine you can disregard at will, but as signalling _is_ required, there's the option of the Imperial tradition of wearing a dangling obi with a trailing knot like these days it is mostly just maiko that use." Izuna pauses. "You've probably seen it before, with the tails hanging almost to the ankle."

Yes. Tobirama _has_ seen that before. It's considered a _very_ feminine and sensual musubi and he is _ambivalent_ about wearing it himself. "Sumptuary limitations?" He asks instead.

"No more than a certain number of colours at a time on a kimono and obi, certain colours barred altogether and others compulsory, restrictions on area and positioning of gold embroidery." Izuna rolls her eyes dismissively. "Like I said, disregard it."

Tobirama nods carefully, ire stirring in his gut. He didn't get a _choice_ about becoming a concubine –and realistically, that is likely the case for _most_ concubines– and some, some jealous daimyo's wife –for there is no other way this could have entered into law– has decreed that concubines _cannot_ be better-dressed than wives? That is–

Spite rises, clawed and scaled and vicious. "I _would_ be delighted to learn this new obi knot and wear it when visiting or at court," Tobirama says with a sharp grin, "but surely for that to be necessary I should be granted the opportunity to visit _somewhere_."

Izuna pauses; Tobirama realises she hasn't actually _planned_ for that and stifles a snigger. She still pouts at him.

"Fine, it's funny," she concedes. "I'll talk to my father; authorisation for a walk around the compound shouldn't be so hard to obtain."

"In that case please," Tobirama bows, "do instruct me."

"Instruction won't do you any good," Izuna says a little teasingly; "this kind of knot _requires_ somebody else to tie it. But lucky for you, I've dressed a few maiko in my time; I know _exactly_ what to do."

Tobirama snorts, rolling his eyes as Tōka's chakra _twitches_. "What _is_ it with you and geisha?" he asks, not really expecting a serious answer.

Sure enough, he does not get one. "I don't know Tobirama, why _wouldn't_ a person with my advantages seek the company of well-educated, well-dressed, witty and musically accomplished ladies?" Izuna teases. "Maybe _you_ should have spent more money on geisha; I've met a couple who could keep up with that brilliant mind of yours."

"You'll have to introduce me," Tobirama says blandly.

Izuna laughs so hard she topples over and lands on the tatami with a thump, still laughing. Tobirama smirks smugly as she tries and fails to regain her composure, neatly folding his stiff, heavy new obi back up into its protective wrapping.


	18. Chapter 18

Izuna's remaining gifts include obi cords in both murasaki purple and vibrant gold, a fairly narrow bustle sash also in that same restricted purple –because the heavy brocade obi will probably require it– a few more soft sashes so he can wear all these layers of kimono at the same time, a pair of leather zori with cords dyed the same aster-purple as the main kimono and a lacquered comb inlaid with mother-of-pearl to form arrowhead leaves and plum blossoms. Tobirama opens and appreciates _all_ of it, then carries it away to secrete safely into his tansu.

Izuna has not _promised_ him escape from his gilded cage, but she _has_ promised to argue with her father on the subject for him, and that is already enough to warm his blood in anticipation and get his heart beating faster. Soon he might get _out_ of here, even if just for a walk around the outside of the garden fence; a chance to feel the sun from more than just the engawa and stretch both his senses and his legs.

Lunch however arrives next, so he sits near Izuna to eat and slyly watch her through his lashes over the top of his bowl of soup. She notices, of course, but doesn't comment; Tōka seems completely focused on her meal, which is so miraculous as to qualify as deeply suspect.

He will prod her later. Right now he wants to finish the meal and then ask Izuna more about her art afterwards, then once the food has settled coax her into the fusuma room so he can undress her of all that shockingly expensive purple then pour his wonder and delight across her naked flesh and feast unstintingly on her pleasure.

Patience and deferral will make the experience all the sweeter, and Tobirama doesn't want to rush today. The morning started badly and ended better than he could have hoped, and he wants that trend to continue. He's willing to work for it.

Izuna values him far beyond what he thought possible; her careless dismissal that his father could _possibly_ have been tempted to relinquish him even in the face of so much money means more than Tobirama can verbally express. He wants to drag her to bed and wrap his arms around her, purring until she falls asleep in his arms again. He wants to ask her a thousand questions so he can understand _why_ she considers him so valuable. It is not a matter of desire; Izuna can see past her own heart, he is sure of it. So _why_ is it that, when she so evidently sees him _clearly_ , she shows none of the irritation, caution or disappointment that so many of his own kin inevitably express in his vicinity?

Tobirama _wants_ to understand this, to know what Izuna sees when she looks at him. It feels _important_.

* * *

The day after being given his impossibly extravagant visiting outfit Tobirama sits on the engawa with his braiding stand and works on a set of haori cords. Seeing Izuna in that kimono and hakama had made him realise that she likely wears men's formalwear more often than not, so tasselled cords for haori are more likely to be seen off clan grounds than an obi cord.

He is still going to _make_ her obi cords, of course, but Tobirama thinks she will appreciate his ingenuity here. She likely has a range of outfits she can wear haori cords with.

It's a nice spring morning, a little cloudy but not overcast and not too windy either; bright, warm and beautiful. The rigorously trimmed peony bush in the garden of the diplomatic Quarters has also finally flowered, and Tobirama can smell the massive, vibrantly pink blooms from several metres away; it's rather pleasant. The flowers lack the purplish tinge of the silk he is weaving into a short, complex braid, despite the dye being called 'peony-coloured,' but Tobirama suspects the name refers to one of the peonies that grow up new every year rather than bush peonies like one currently drawing all the bees in to sample its nectar.

Along with the buzzing of bees and the singing of birds Tobirama can hear the occasional steady drone of what Tōka _still_ insists are tree spirits, the clucking of chickens, the laughing cries of playing children and more distantly, the ever-present rush of the river.

The children's voices quiet abruptly; Tobirama glances up in time to see a large indigo and pink temari land squarely in the curving path of white sand that stands in for a water feature, cratering the aesthetic raked curves. Following the trajectory back across the fence, he sees a small huddle of children ranging in age from maybe four to possibly nine at most, all in colourful wrapped shirts and matching trousers with bare feet, bar one girl in a yellow kimono tied with red cords. The huddle consults itself, voices high and louder than perhaps they realise, before a spokesperson elects themselves and climbs determinedly up onto to the fence.

"Neko-san? Neko-san!"

Are they talking to _him?_ Tobirama meets the eyes of the boy in hawk-brown patterned with red and yellow dragonflies and raises an eyebrow. The boy flinches and bows.

"I'm sorry! _O_ -Neko-san!"

' _Honoured_ mister cat' is not _much_ of an improvement, but it's something. "Yes?" Tobirama asks, pausing in his braiding.

"May I come into the garden for the temari, O-Neko-san?"

Tobirama recalls what Izuna said about garden access. "If you are younger than ten, you won't be able to get out again," he warns.

The boy nods vigorously and at the back of the huddle the stringy girl in yellow dashes off, presumably in search of somebody old enough. "Thank you for the warning, O-Neko-san!"

A few minutes later a taller girl in a pine-needle-green kimono, pink obi and straw sandals arrives, briskly surveys the scene and homes in on the boy still perched on the fence; a spirited but hushed conversation ensues, with much hissing and gesturing. Eventually the girl sighs, rubs her forehead and waves a hand _exactly_ like Tobirama has seen Izuna's older squad-member Takao do, clearing communicating 'carry on with this madness, why not'. The boy bounces lightly on the fence bar and turns back to Tobirama:

"O-Neko-san, might Ikumi-onee-san be permitted to step into your garden so as to retrieve the temari?"

He makes a decent approximation of polite speech for a child; Tobirama nods, keeping his amusement on the inside. "Indeed, the young lady has my permission to do so," he replies, meeting formality with formality.

The boy beams, bows and turns to the girl, who straightens her shoulders and marches all the way around the fence so as to walk in the front gate, meticulously staying on the paths between the shaped azalea and camellia bushes until she is on the edge of the sand-stream. Then she kneels on the moss, carefully picks up the ball and brushes off as much of the grains as possible, then conscientiously smoothes the sand out again and combs it with her fingertips, trying to reproduce the crisp aesthetic pattern the temari had ruined.

It's a wobbly attempt, but Tobirama honestly likes it better than the previous elegant geometry; it has more character.

'Ikumi-onee-san' then gets to her feet, bows low to him and throws the temari out of the garden at the waiting huddle of children, then immediately darts between the bushes to the nearest fence and vaults over it, evidently not willing to chance his hospitality for a single moment longer.

A child in light blue printed with cats catches the temari; there's a ragged cheer and then the group bows almost as one.

"Our thanks to O-Neko-san!" They chorus before all running off; presumably to play somewhere where losing their ball into somebody's garden is less fraught with peril. Tobirama goes back to his braiding with a smile; children are delightful.

* * *

Tobirama's laundry generally comes back to him in the late afternoon of the day it got taken away, or the next day if the weather turns unexpectedly wet after noon. However _this_ afternoon, what arrives neatly folded in the basket is _not_ what got taken away. Yes, there are two of his white cotton nagajuban and two pairs of sturdy white canvas tabi, along with one of the pink cotton nagajuban, the dark cream silk one and all his loin wraps, but _somehow_ he now has two white and one pink silk crepe nagajuban, and the rest of the cotton tabi have _also_ been replaced with silk.

The laundress cannot _possibly_ have arranged this, which means this is Izuna's work. Tobirama puts it all away in the tansu, plotting on how to get those cotton layers _back_. They're _his_ and yes, the prospect of _more_ silk full-length under-kimono is… very nice, but that does _not_ mean Izuna can take back any of those _previous_ gifts!

He makes sure he is waiting on the doorstep to tell her this when she arrives with dinner.

"I appreciate the new silk nagajuban," he says, arms folded across the front of the shrimp kimono –it is growing on him– "but that does _not_ mean I am happy with you taking back gifts previously given."

"My apologies Tobirama, I didn't think of it that way," Izuna says immediately, chagrin filling her chakra. "Here, take these" –she sets down the bento boxes on the step– "I will go and fetch them for you at _once_." She hurried out of the genkan again.

Tobirama had not actually expected that response. When on previous occasions family members have taken away things he was given –because they no longer fit, or he is too old for them, or they didn't look important– when he confronted them he may have got an apology, but the offending item was never _returned_. The clothing and toys had already been handed on, the 'unimportant' things disposed of. The prospect of getting something _back_ is strange and causes nameless emotion to swell under his ribs. It is a new experience, to be allowed to _keep_ something rather than expected to get along without it.

He takes the bento into the tatami room, but does not get a chance to start serving before Izuna is back in the genkan with a square basket containing his pilfered clothing.

"I'm really sorry," she says again as she holds it out to him.

"I already forgave you," Tobirama replies, taking it; his missing clothes, all clean and neatly folded. "Can you serve the meal while I put these away?"

"Of course," Izuna says warmly, her anxiety dissolving and warm relief suffusing her chakra as she changes into house slippers. Tobirama leans in to kiss her –so she knows it really _is_ fine– then hurries off to finish putting his clothes away.

She gave them back. And they were washed and dried and folded _before_ she swapped them out for the silks and put them somewhere else. Somewhere that –he breathes in– was made of cypress wood, with a sachet of jasmine flowers, rue and a few other pest-repelling herbs keeping the space free of moths and fleas. Kept safe, not instantly disposed of. Not passed on to somebody else who cannot be expected to return what was 'gifted' to _them._

He puts them in the back of the drawer with the indigo work-wear sets he hasn't worn once since Izuna gave him the first three kimono, then heads back to the tatami room for dinner. It smells like it's a fish curry, and he very much wants to lay a claim to a second portion before Tōka decides she will make off with all the good bits just to spite him.

* * *

After the meal Izuna suggests they sit on the engawa for a bit, to enjoy the evening sunshine. Tobirama doesn't have a problem with this, although he does go to put on a dōnuki layer and get Madara's coat first; however warm it is in the Diplomatic Quarters with Izuna's ingenious fuuinjutsu heating, it's _not_ so warm outside once the sun has started setting.

Izuna has set out little cups and an elegant sake bottle; Tobirama eyes them disapprovingly. She's pregnant, she should _not_ be drinking.

She easily reads his face and waves a hand at him as she also sets out a dish of mixed pickled vegetables and two pairs of chopsticks. "No, no alcohol; it's all been carefully cooked out," she assures him. "But I like the taste and it sets the mood; you don't have to drink any of it if you don't want to."

"I will have a cup then." So he can make _sure_ there really is no alcohol in it. She might trust her clansmen but Tobirama remembers those suspicious bento boxes all too well.

Izuna pours out sake for both of them –and can it still be called sake if there is no alcohol in it, as he can't smell any evaporating out– and Tobirama cautiously tastes it. It does indeed lack the faint bite of alcohol, but otherwise tastes exactly the same.

Actually not true; it tastes _excellent_ , but it's not the rice wine he's used to. "What is this?"

"Shōchū," Izuna says easily; Tobirama double-takes. He's had shōchū before and it's _strong_ , nothing like this mellow flavour.

"Seriously?"

Izuna nods. "Soba shōchū specifically; I'd have brought plum liquor, but we don't have much of it and it was impressed on me that heat-treating it would ruin the flavour _completely_ , so I will have to do without until I've given birth." She sighs, sipping her drink. "Terrible."

Tobirama hadn't realised people made shōchū from buckwheat. Then again, in Frost Country they make shōchū from their sweet potatoes, so there's no reason why _not_. "It's very smooth," he says, sipping again; smooth enough that you could get _very_ drunk without quite noticing you were doing it. He likes it quite a bit, although the taste might well change with the alcohol in there. He takes a mouthful of pickles to clear his palate.

Izuna nods. "I can't understand why so many people torture themselves with alcoholic drinks that leave your tongue feeling like something died on it," she complains, rolling her eyes as she too takes some pickles. "It's not like it's _that_ hard to produce something palatable."

Tobirama privately doesn't think those of his uncles running a still _somewhere_ on clan grounds are particularly concerned about taste; they are brewing their own alcohol from a cut of the vassals' rice because they want to get drunk cheaply. Good sake is expensive after all, and it takes rather more alcohol to get a shinobi drunk than it does a civilian. The more chakra a shinobi has, the harder it is, as a general rule.

He finishes his cup; Izuna pours him some more. Yes, it would be _very_ easy to get drunk on this if there was any alcohol in it.

"I might have to come up with fuuinjutsu to get the alcohol out of umeshu," Izuna says mournfully, sipping slowly at her own cup; Tobirama takes care to do likewise this time, to build safe habits. "I can't just _not_ drink any plum liquor, not when they've opened the casks of last summer's batch this week and it's all going to be _gone_ by winter. Well _before_ winter, even."

"How would you do that?" Tobirama asks curiously, taking more pickles.

Izuna frowns, tapping her empty cup against her lower lip. "Two cups," she says, setting her own cup down; Tobirama pours her some more of the alcohol-free buckwheat liquor. "Stackable, one with holes in the bottom. Put the fuuinjutsu on the cup with holes, so that alcohol can't get out of it. Then stack the cups and pour the umeshu in the top; the liquor stays in the top cup, the plum bit ends up in the bottom one."

"That sounds easily done," Tobirama agrees, rather delighted by the idea. He has no idea whatsoever what kind of fuuinjutsu you'd need to prevent alcohol from leaving the cup with the holes, but he can't expect Izuna to explain those kinds of fine details and it does rather sound like she's got the necessary building blocks for such a thing available already. He can ponder how _he_ might achieve that effect later; it's something that would be incredibly useful for getting poisons out of various liquids and when making medicine. Half of the expense in making medicines is in the refining process, where extracting a specific compound takes at least half a dozen steps.

"I will try it tomorrow," Izuna decides firmly, eating another mouthful of pickles before picking up her cup again, "and then _certain people I will not name_ will have to stop hogging the umeshu and share properly."

Tobirama chuckles quietly at that mental image. "What will you do with the pure alcohol you've distilled out?"

Izuna shrugs. "Dilute it a bit and hand it over to the medics; it'll work fine for keeping things clean."

"Or adding it to another batch for that extra kick," Tobirama mutters, taking another sip of his shōchū. It might be enough to bribe the brewers into agreeing to let her experiment, at least.

"Also a possibility!" Izuna agrees cheerfully, taking a tiny sip of her own drink. "However I will leave that decision to the brewers, after making off with my liquor-less plum."

Tobirama snorts at the pun.

* * *

The next morning Izuna shows up with breakfast, whistling a new tune. Breakfast which is much more traditional than usual, in that there is fresh rice, pickles, soup and an egg each to go with the now-ubiquitous fish rather than millet and vegetable katemeshi.

"What's the occasion?" Tōka asks. She's been relatively subdued these past few days, but Tobirama can count so he's deliberately not commenting on it; it's coming up on a month since Yori's medical intervention and while Tōka –like indeed most female Senju warriors– is not massively regular in that respect, with every day that passes it gets increasingly likely. Especially considering they are now in their second month of enforced inactivity.

Izuna grins. "Rejoice with me: I'm moving house!"

Tobirama claps; that's _much_ faster than he was expecting.

Izuna bows playfully. "Thank you, thank you. It helps that I'm a Lineage Head; there are provisions in place for me to have my own residence. It's just that there's currently somebody else in it and they need to move out, and the people in the house they're moving into also need to move, and a bit more shuffling needs to go on elsewhere along with some repairs and alterations to little-used buildings. So it's going to take at _least_ a week, probably longer, but it's happening."

"No complaints from your family?" He asks.

Izuna shrugs. "Madara-nii's not back yet. My father didn't speak against it and won't try to stop me, because it's _appropriate_ for me to set up my own household given I'm expecting. He _did_ kick up a fuss over me taking you out for a walk, by the way; I refuted all his arguments, but there's probably going to be more of them after lunch. Still, I'll know by dinnertime whether he'll let me take you for a walk tomorrow, so you'll know before nightfall."

Tobirama suspects he's going to have to _see_ Izuna interacting with her father before he can parse their relationship; he's not been able to put anything coherent together from her mentions over the past seven weeks.

Nearly eight weeks, now. She rebels persistently in some ways, is perfectly obedient in other aspects and he can't yet put together the wheres and whys of her choices. There _must_ be an order to it, or else Izuna would not rebel at all.

"Saburō-kun's in that awkward teenage phase where he's _delighted_ to evict his big sister from his immediate vicinity, as though I haven't seen it _all_ before with Madara-nii," Izuna continues, tone terribly fond, "so no complaints there. Lots of eager enthusiasm, in fact, once I clarified I was only planning to move to the other Amaterasu residence."

Tobirama remembers hiding from Tōka on various occasions when he was in his early teens, embarrassed and infuriated by the betrayal of his body and emotions, everything awkward and out of control. Having to share a _bedroom_ with her would have been _terrible_.

"Why _are_ you still sharing a futon with your brothers?" He asks.

Izuna's smile turns shadowed. "Madara-nii likes his younger siblings where he knows they're not getting into trouble without him," she replies lightly, reminding Tobirama that Madara and Izuna have seen a younger brother murdered in their home, in their _bed_. The desire to keep all remaining siblings close at hand forever after is _very_ understandable, although Saburō was clearly young enough to escape that particular trauma.

"Plus he sleepwalks when we're not there to cuddle," Izuna adds as an afterthought.

Tōka looks up. "Madara-sama sleepwalks?"

Izuna nods, eyes brightening again. "Has since his early teens; if one of us is in sensory range he'll wrap himself around us, and if we're not he tends to wander aimlessly unless some brave kinsman volunteers for cuddles." She grins, necklace around her eyes scrunching. "I feel for his Squad, but they've evidently adapted well."

That puts an _entirely_ new light on Yori's teasing back when Madara was dozing in the Diplomatic Quarters; Tobirama now realises she was implying that his brother's rival would end up in bed _with_ him. Izuna probably wouldn't have _minded_ per se, but the teasing would most certainly have lasted _forever_. Which Madara evidently knew very well, given his immediate departure.

"Is your new home in sensory range?" Tobirama hadn't realised Madara was a sensor –that is important and useful information– but his range can't be _that_ big. Or perhaps it is, but he's only able to sense people of similar chakra strength to himself; there are all manner of different sensory methods and limitations that Tobirama has run into with other kinsmen. Few have half his degree of clarity, much less his precision or range.

Izuna pauses. "You know what, I have no idea," she admits. "His range is less than mine; I'll have to ask him once he returns."

Tobirama nods. "Are you staying a while this morning?"

His wife smiles at him. "I was hoping I'd be welcome, yes. I thought you might appreciate some practice with your new obi."

"That would be much appreciated;" Tobirama lets himself smirk, "both with the dressing and the undressing." It would be very pleasant to take Izuna to bed before lunch.

"I am ever at your service there, Treasure." And she is fully amenable; excellent.

* * *

After the trial run for the clothes for his walk tomorrow –even if it means more fuuinjutsu, he _can't_ let the opportunity pass him by– and adjusting to the much heavier weight of the very long brocade obi as he walks around the stone room in the zori, Tobirama is even more eager to take everything off –and undress Izuna as well– so he can lay her out in the fusuma room. However he also doesn't want to pass up the opportunity to tease his wife, so he carefully strips out of everything except the rich purple nagajuban and puts it all away in the tansu before turning back to her.

Today Izuna is wearing a pink wisteria kimono with a tiny repeated pattern of lotus flowers and hollyhock leaves curled in a swirl of water, the contrasting colours of the delicate design giving richness and texture to the warm, delicate purple. The tiny repeated pattern brightens the patina-green obi with its embroidered temari, and the peach-pink of her nagajuban peeking out at the neckline is echoed in the dainty water-lilies.

But for all the girlish florals of her kimono with its hanging sleeves only barely appropriate for a married woman, there is nothing innocent about the heat in her gaze or the barely-leashed desire staining her chakra.

"Is my Lord-Wife pleased by her purchases?" He inquires archly, smoothing out non-existent creases from the obscenely expensive purple silk covering his chest. He did not bother with tabi –the floor of the stone room is now reliably comfortable underfoot– so his bare ankles are just visible under the lower hem.

"I was right," Izuna says, voice low and caressing, "to think you would look lovely in purple, Treasure."

"A single layer of true purple against my skin, and nothing else," Tobirama agrees coyly, toying idly with the nagajuban's collar. "It is very comfortable."

Izuna bites the inside of her cheek; he can tell by how her face moves. Shamelessly bold, Tobirama walks right up to her and then around behind her, leaning his chest against her upper back and wrapping his arms around her waist over the obi as he kisses her teasingly in the hollow of her throat.

"Undress for me?" He coaxes, savouring the racing of her pulse against his neck.

"Here, Treasure?" Izuna asks, tone vaguely curious but scent explicit on how _desperately_ she wants to wrap her naked body around his.

Tobirama thinks about it, nibbling his way up the tendon on this side of her throat as he does so. "Except the nagajuban, yes," he decides, murmuring the words in her ear, "and including the half-slip and corset under it; I want to see you in nothing but pink silk over your skin."

Izuna makes a small, breathy sound that he might have missed if he wasn't draped around her upper body with his lips teasing the shell of her ear.

"Take everything else off while I watch," Tobirama continues, "and fold it up all neatly. I don't know how long I'm planning on keeping you here, after all, and it wouldn't do for them to crease."

"More than a few hours and I won't have time to make you tea before lunch," Izuna manages, swaying backwards into his body.

"I would rather have you than have tea," Tobirama says deliberately, "and I don't mind missing lunch this once."

The little gasp she makes as her chakra clenches hotly and her scent thickens is music to his ears; all her reactions to him blend together into something more compelling than anything he has ever encountered before. He _wants_ –

–oh how he _wants_.

"Undress for me?" He asks again, stepping back from the embrace so he can turn her around to face him –she does not resist him– and rest his forehead against hers so their breath mingles. "I want you to have silk caressing your skin while I enjoy your body, silk and nothing else."

He wants to lay her out on that textured silk and lavish soft slow caresses on her skin, luxuriating in the feel of the fabric as much as the various textures of her body that he now knows by heart. He wants to find out how the scent of her arousal and of their coupling will mingle with the scent of the silk, and a deeply wicked inner part of him wants to leave stains on that pretty peach-pink garment that will make the clan laundresses speculate cheerfully over Izuna's sex-life. Not that he doesn't already give them plenty of evidence with his regularly-changed sheets, but adding more grist to the gossip mill amuses him in ways that are probably very petty, but no less entertaining for that.

"Who am I to deny you what will bring you pleasure, Tobirama," Izuna says softly, his name on her lips somehow more intimate than the endearment she favours as she reaches for the obi musubi behind her back.

"Let me walk you to the tansu first," he replies, placing his hands on her hips and gently guiding her back a step, then another until she is neatly trapped between him and the chest of drawers. "There." He takes a single step away, enough that she has room to turn and disrobe.

"You like it when I do as you tell me to," Izuna notes as she sets the obi cords and bustle sash aside and unwinds the obi from around her waist, pausing every now and then to untie the various cords and pads keeping the musubi pristine.

"Of course I do," Tobirama agrees easily; "I can't _make_ you do anything. Yet when I ask, you _still_ cater to my whims." And while she could _easily_ force or coerce him into doing all manner of things, she still refuses to exercise the power she has over him. It is a heady combination; he enjoys the willing surrender and it makes him _want_.

"Do you know how you look at me when I do exactly as you ask, Tobirama?" She asks as she turns around to fold the obi on the top of the tansu. Tobirama steps forwards, hands cradling her hips as he cages her between himself and the smooth wood.

"Tell me how I look at you, Izuna."

She turns her head sideways, her nose brushing his as her hands neatly package the silk without any help from her eyes. "You look at me, Tobirama," she says softly, _intimately_ , "like you want to _devour_ me. Like I am a banquet and you haven't eaten more than plain rice and water in _months_. Like you want _everything_ , to the point you are struggling to decide where to even _start_."

Tobirama trembles; he feels _seen_ , all his careful masks scraped away and his beating heart exposed to the air. And yet –and yet– Izuna does not seem to have an _opinion_ of his raw desire, of his almost instinctive _need_ to close his jaw over her pale flesh and leave the imprint of his –rather sharp– teeth in soft, tender places. He likes seeing the marks left behind too much to restrain himself when she is so accepting of them.

But it is more than that. Every time Izuna bends to his desires, so graceful, so _willing_ , it feeds the madness in the back of his mind that taunts him in dreams, the voice that whispers that, should they get peace, he will only have to _ask_ Izuna to remove the deadly and confining fuuinjutsu painted across his spine and she will bend to his will in that also, even though she _knows_ that doing so will mean losing him.

He can't hope that. He _can't_ , it _will_ break him to dare to voice that desire and have it crushed. But he can't silence the whisper of his own insanity no matter how firmly he tries to push it away.

Izuna has now removed her kimono and is folding that up too. He will have to step back so she can untie her nagajuban to remove her small-clothes from under it.

Watching the graceful movements of her hands on the pink silk ties holding the garment closed, Tobirama deliberately leans into his own lust to smother the irrational voices of his own mind.

"You said you would have _liked_ to wake up with my body sheathed within yours," he reminds her. "If you decide to take a nap in my arms after I have _thoroughly_ exhausted you, it would be my _pleasure_ to satisfy that desire."

Izuna's knees wobble as she unties her half-slip, something sharp and brilliant rippling through her chakra like a river-snake speeding along a river. "You want to do that too," she accuses lowly, eyes meeting his. "You want me limp and insensible in your arms, utterly trusting and entirely at your mercy, having given you _my permission_ to touch, to taste, to _invade_ my body while I am unable to resist you."

Tobirama's teeth _ache_. If she goes on talking like that he's not going to be _able_ to do half the things he wants to do; he's going to pin her to the clothes chest and take her right here, and he probably won't be able to draw it out for very long either.

"Keep talking like that and I will bend you over the tansu so I can take the edge off," he manages, the deep, rumbling edge in his voice conveying his utter sincerity.

Izuna removes her soft corset, sets it on the top of the neat pile of clothes and turns to face him, naked body framed by pink silk and fingertips resting over the yellow-green bite-mark on her inner thigh. "Please do," she invites, and it's _too much_.

* * *

Tobirama does indeed miss lunch by a fairly wide margin. Tōka kept half the soup back for him, but it is barely warm by the time Izuna leaves and he sits down to eat it.

Not that he cares; he's _much_ too busy remembering Izuna's _utter unravelling_ when he decided to find out what would happen if he started purring during sex. He is _definitely_ doing that again, no question there.

"You're looking _thoroughly_ well-exercised, cousin," Tōka says dryly, eyeing him over her basket-weaving. The grey cat is sprawled over her calves, paws twitching, and his cousin's latest effort is turning into a respectable-looking laundry basket.

"How's your reading going?" Tobirama shoots back with a smirk; he's not letting his cousin ruin his mood. Izuna likes her new pink haori cords and has promised to wear them to take him out tomorrow –she confided while they were resting in each-other's arms that she's fairly sure her father is going to bend– and he is going to be _outside_. He's not been outside in the better part of _two months_.

And no, the engawa doesn't count. That's looking _at_ the outside, not being _in_ it.

"Touché cousin." Tōka grins ruefully. "It's… quite something, if you _really_ want to know. Very _educational;_ maybe you should ask your Lord-Wife to acquire one for you, so you can experiment a bit."

Tobirama lowers his soup so he doesn't accidentally snort it up his nose; he's read pillow books before now, in Uzushio, and while he was focused on the political nuances and implications that doesn't mean he can't _remember_ some of the sex acts described. "I thought you were advocating for _less_ background noise for your various activities, not more?" He manages.

She smirks at him. "Far be it from me to bring you down from your honeymoon high, cousin."

"It's not _like that_ , Tōka."

" _Sure_ it's not. No," she goes on, flicking her fingers as he glares at her over his soup, "expediency, compliance, favours, complacency; I _know_ , cousin. But it's good to see you enjoying yourself for once."

Tobirama relaxes slightly; evidently this is just a new twist on his cousin's regular 'you need to get out more and have fun' lecture. "Well I _did_ have fun," he concedes with a grin, "and I'm probably going out tomorrow, so you can't _possibly_ complain about my social life."

She laughs. "Oh, look at us two shut-ins, getting excited about a walk around the enemy's clan compound! But yes, it's a good opportunity, even though she'll probably keep you in the residential areas. Just counting the carp flags will give you a good idea of numbers; I'm already trying to do that from the engawa, although the view's limited."

"I'm sorry you're not mobile enough to come too." Tōka's always been much more social than he is.

"Well if it's a choice between being unable to walk and having a seal slapped on me to keep me from running away, I know which one I'd pick."

Tobirama raises an eyebrow. "Appreciating the Deathblow, are we? Remember he's married and the Uchiha don't let women be concubines."

Tōka throws a broken bit of twig at him. "You're an ass, Tobirama; the only reason Izuna didn't break _your_ bones is that she didn't want to be the one doing the legwork in bed."

"You're just jealous of my ability to reach the tap over the sink."

"Damn right I am."

They both laugh; Tobirama's missed joking around with his cousin, but being locked in here together for weeks on end hasn't done either of their tempers any good. It's nice to get some of that back, however briefly.

"Although," Tōka grins wickedly, "Saburō's _face_ at finding me all alone in here when he showed up with the bento; the background noise made him pull the most _appalled_ faces."

"I'm sorry to have missed it," Tobirama chuckles. "No, I take that back, I'm not sorry at all; _completely_ worth a lukewarm lunch."

Tōka sniggers amicably. "If only Hashirama could see you now; he'd be _delighted_ by your good mood."

Tobirama sighs. He does miss Anija, but also he's realising it's easier to appreciate Hashirama's big-heartedness, his zeal for peace and his forceful charisma from a distance. Up close his brother is… too much. Too loud, too intrusive, too insensitive to others' quieter moods and too determined to 'cheer them up' out of them; no matter how tense the past seven weeks have been, at no point has Tobirama felt _intruded upon_.

It's a feeling he's lived with for most of his life, so to have the rawness fade so completely to the point that he actively _wants_ to socialise is… a little strange, actually. But a good strangeness. Izuna left instantly when he said he didn't want company, and now he realises that he'd expected her to disregard his stated preferences and impose anyway.

Izuna's restful company. Hashirama has _never_ been that.

"You don't miss him?" Tōka, ever perceptive.

"It's easier to appreciate Anija from a distance," Tobirama says dryly. "He's far less fun when he's constantly in your space." Physically and in chakra terms; being in range of Hashirama is like being draped in clinging vines.

Tōka nods. "True, he can be a bit much at close range." She smirks evilly. "Though I cured him of getting into my space pretty damn quick."

Tobirama snorts; Hashirama spent a couple of years as a pre-teen being flat-out _terrified_ of Tōka, which she'd done entirely on purpose to make him stay out of her bedroom and her space generally. Anija never quite recovered from that either; Tōka is Nee-san, with all the privileges and terrors that implies.

"Sadly, that won't work for me." He is the _little_ brother, although Hashirama has only recently started being noticeably taller than him, and Anija seems to think this means he has the right to barge in and drag Tobirama off to do things whenever he thinks Tobirama is being 'anti-social'. Which is far _too_ often in Tobirama's opinion; he does plenty of socialising while arranging mission schedules and working on fuuinjutsu, he doesn't need to add _more_ in his off-time.

"Hey you're married now," Tōka points out with a twitch of the lips. "Hashirama has to get past Izuna, and I don't think _she_ would hesitate to put the fear of her in him."

"Or summon _her_ brother to bounce him across the landscape," Tobirama agrees; it's a very nice mental image when he knows Anija is irritatingly indestructible.

"Plans for this afternoon?" His cousin asks. "I'd like you to put me on the engawa, please; I want to watch the ongoing preparations for tomorrow's festival."

"I'll join you," Tobirama decides. "Not worried about disturbing the cat?" The grey queen is still sprawled indolently across her shins.

"She won't mind." Tōka produces a temari from behind her, one of the ones Oshiki threw at the shōji a few days ago. "I have adequate cat bribes." She throws him the ball.

Tobirama smirks; it's a cat not a leopard, but the opportunity to play ball with an enthusiastic feline for a little bit is still much appreciated.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does end on a slight cliffhanger.

Tajima does indeed fold on the matter of Tobirama taking a walk on Boy's Day, no doubt with a slew of conditions and precautions that Izuna will avoid talking about entirely unless they find themselves in a situation where he is about to run into one. Tobirama would be more annoyed about that secrecy if he didn't know it was purely because Izuna believes he will do his best to subvert the precautions if given the time to do so; she recognises his intelligence and skill as a shinobi and she is determined not to risk her clansmen over him.

It's something he can respect. However it also makes him _want_ to do something unexpected and subversive to throw her off. He can't do much, but he _can_ do this.

Which is why he is catching Azumaya-ba on the doorstep as she delivers his latest batch of silk –dyed a beautiful and expensive iris purple– with his comb, wisteria hair-cords and little bag with the cosmetics in; Izuna is hard to surprise, but this _will_ work.

"Azumaya-ba, could you help me with these?" He asks, holding them out. "I want to surprise my Lord-Wife."

The older woman softens. "Of course Tobirama-kun; is there anything particular you wanted?"

Tobirama shakes his head. "I don't know what would suit me."

Azumaya-ba smiles in a way that would worry him very much if he hadn't deliberately asked for this. "Don't you worry Tobirama-kun, Auntie will help you. And then afterwards I can teach you to apply it yourself, hn?"

Tobirama bows briefly. "Many thanks, Azumaya-ba."

"Oh it's my pleasure, Tobirama-kun. We don't often get the chance to surprise Izuna-bi, you know; generally it's the other way around." The older woman smirks, all mischief. "Turning the tables is always a delight; keeps her on her toes."

"I shall keep that in mind, Azumaya-ba."

The way the obasan eyes him makes it clear she can see very well that he fully intends to keep Izuna on her toes as much as possible; she evidently doesn't disapprove though, steering him onto a floor cushion and taking the comb off him.

"I'll put your hair up first; do you have any ornaments?"

"I have two decorative combs, Azumaya-ba."

"When I've done your hair go fetch them, so I can decide which one will suit you best. What colours are you wearing today, Tobirama-kun?"

A good question, seeing as he is currently in his sleeping yukata with the purple-red dōnuki thrown over the top for nominal modesty. "Purple and shades of dawn, Azumaya-ba."

Thin, wrinkled fingers with calluses that have nothing to do with weaponry untie the end of his braid and set about gently coaxing his curls into order. "Such lovely hair; I hope one of the children gets these curls. Much better-behaved than Madara-kun's dreadful untidy mop that he won't even trim all to the same length, and easier to tie back than Izuna-bi's deceptively smooth feather-hair."

Tobirama suspects 'feather-hair' is an Uchiha idiom, so doesn't comment on it; he can ask later.

Those cool, dry fingers gather his hair up in sections, teasing the curls into order then tying them up in a style that feels like some kind of twist, high enough up on his head that his bangs are also captured.

"There you go, kitten," Azumaya-ba says matter-of-factly, patting him on the shoulder. "Go fetch your combs while I take at look at what you've got in here, hm?"

Tobirama is a little ambivalent over being addressed as 'koneko-kun' –'O-Neko-san' was at least _polite_ – but he also knows better than to contradict an Aunt so he obediently goes to fetch his two hair combs.

He returns to find Azumaya-ba having settled on a cushion herself immediately in front of his one, the little row of cosmetics bottles poised by her hand. Tobirama feels a brief chill of trepidation, then forcefully banishes it. If he is _confident_ in this, he _will_ carry it off. And he is very sure that seeing him with his face subtly and tastefully painted _will_ fluster Izuna, so he _will_ do it. It will be _worth_ it.

"Sit, sit," Azumaya-ba says, eyes scanning his face with clinical professionalism. "Hm, yes." She catches the side of his head with her left hand. "Hold still; it wouldn't do to smudge you."

Tobirama stills, letting his breathing slow right down.

"Eyes on my hair, not on the brush; pick a point and don't look away from it."

Tobirama holds obediently still as a cool line is neatly painted across the edge of his eyelid, just above his lashes, first on one eye then on the other. A half-length line is then painted _under_ each eye as he stares at the ceiling, then he is subjected to an additional line over each eyelid in red, lip-paint over his mouth and a very small but carefully-judged application of the blush powder.

"There." Azumaya-ba gives him the hand-mirror, visibly satisfied.

Tobirama examines himself cautiously. The slightly winged eyeliner is something he's seen various Uchiha warriors wearing in the field, but the thicker line of red above it draws attention to the bright markings up his jaw and chin, and also to the subtly artificial pinkness dusted over his cheekbones and the very thin layer of lip-paint on his mouth, echoing the pink of his cheekbones.

It's subtle and tasteful and makes a startling difference to his face; Tobirama turns the little mirror this way and that, trying to get a feel for the full effect.

"I like it," he decides.

"Good," Azumaya-ba says with a naughty smile. "I can teach you this later, so you can apply it yourself; you can learn it by feel, other than the blush which requires a more nuanced touch." The smile widens as she picks up the comb with the mother-of-pearl inlay and firmly places it in his hair. "There; go start getting ready, Tobirama-kun. That way when your Lord-Wife arrives to tie your obi she won't get to see your face until you're fully dressed."

Oh, that is an _excellent_ idea. Tobirama scoops up the cosmetics and gets to his feet, then bows.

"My thanks to Azumaya-ba for her assistance and her excellent advice."

"Oh, it was no trouble," she tells him fondly. "I'll see myself out kitten; you go and prepare your surprise."

* * *

Izuna arrives as Tobirama is making sure the dragon-embroidered sakura kimono hangs perfectly straight, loitering in the doorway of the stone room as he stands facing the tansu. Tobirama ignores her as he wraps the glorious aster visiting kimono around himself, securing the ties and narrow waist cord and ensuring all the folds and tucks are smooth and level. Then he checks that all the various layers are visible at the neckline with his fingertips; satisfied, he speaks:

"Help me with the date-jime, please?" The plain waistband goes under the obi, holding the kimono in place and making the elaborately knotted brocade more decorative than functional.

Izuna approaches him, accepts the waistband from him in a flutter of true-purple sleeve –she's clearly wearing that extravagant murasaki kimono and hakama set again– and helps him get all the side-folds and sleeves in place before securing all the bits that need securing with said waistband.

Tobirama then wordlessly passes the hefty bundle of folded obi over his shoulder, hanging the many necessary cords and pads over his arm. Izuna sets about tying him up in it, humming a tune as she does so.

It's an unfamiliar tune with a slow, lilting beat. "New song?" He asks curiously.

"I'm not settled on the words yet," Izuna says distractedly, taking another cord off his arm.

Tobirama accepts the implication that no words will be forthcoming. He doesn't want to _assume_ it's explicit, or even a love song like most of the other songs he's heard from her so far, but the odds do favour it. There's no harm in asking for more details if, should he be right, this will lead to another serenade later. "What's it about?"

"Power." Izuna replies absently, "and what it does to the human heart." She hums a slow, almost haunting riff as the silk rustles and one of the trailing ends is briefly hung over his shoulder.

"A sad song then?"

"More a plea," Izuna decides after a thoughtful pause, then sings, voice high and aching:

"Where is the jewel, inside your ribs? Where is your joy? Where is your youth? Where is the man with his pride in his hands, who knelt in the garden with nothing to lose?"

She then lapses back into humming.

Tobirama wonders briefly if some aspect of this song is aimed at Izuna's father, then swiftly buries the very _idea_ as far too dangerous to keep around anywhere near the front of his mind when Uchiha are so terribly proficient at reading his facial expressions. They have the unfair advantage of practicing on Saburō, for all that the teenager hides himself behind his hair.

His own family were never so accurate, not even the ones with a rudimentary chakra-sense to make matters easier. It in fact got _worse_ after the chakra markings on his face appeared, as the red is eye-catching and the symmetry distracts people from his other features.

Tobirama does not say anything else as Izuna continues to tie the long, heavy obi into the required hanging musubi, accepting the curved board to tuck into the front of the obi and holding his arms out to make it easier for Izuna to tie the purple obi cord strung with the ivory dragon brooch.

"There; let's see if it needs the bustle sash."

Tobirama obligingly picks up the obi-age, considers his footing and spins lightly around, feeling the sway of long dangling ends of the heavy brocade obi.

Izuna's face as she registers the cosmetics is perfect wide-eyed shock, pupils large as her unguarded chakra fizzes with surprise, wonder, earthy appreciation and something deep and fierce and formless, a thunderstorm under her skin that briefly expands outwards to dance over it, vivid, electric and concealing.

Then she sways and Tobirama remembers abruptly that his wife is _pregnant;_ he takes a hasty step forwards to catch her upper arms. "Are you alright?"

Izuna blinks vaguely at him, the storm in her chakra subsiding and leaving dizziness behind. "You're gorgeous, Tobirama," his wife tells him dazedly.

He smiles; how can he _not_ when this is everything he was hoping for and more? The flush that blooms under Izuna's skin in response to his delight just adds to his victory.

"Oh no, you _know_ you're stunning now," Izuna goes on, tone warm and tinged with self-deprecating humour, "I'm doomed."

"You already were," Tobirama retorts, warm right to his bones and joy humming under his ribs. "You can't think I _hadn't_ noticed how you lean into my touch, how your heart stutters when I kiss you, how your chakra _trembles_ under my hands?"

"No," his wife manages faintly, "I knew you'd noticed that. You've been enjoying it too much for me to miss it."

Tobirama feels his smile darken into a smirk and leans in closer so his breath mingles with hers. "Is there any reason why I _shouldn't_ enjoy the way you _yearn_ for my attentions, Lord-Wife?"

"I married you to me," Izuna replies, tone soft and chakra settling into a slightly steadier rythmn. "My desire is no less than your due."

"Even when you know I'm going to do my best to use it against you?"

"Even then." Her eyes smile at him, Amaterasu's necklace shifting. "Especially then; I walked into this with my eyes open, after all, so you have every right to make me work for it."

Well then, if he has all-but explicit _permission_ … Tobirama steps back and lets go of Izuna's arms. "If I kiss you, my lip paint will smudge," he says teasingly, "so kisses will have to wait until after my promised walk."

Izuna pouts, widening her eyes. "Not even one kiss?"

"Much as I would enjoy seeing you walk around with my lip-paint on your face, no."

Izuna sighs dramatically, then catches his hand and presses a kiss to his fingertips. "As you wish, Treasure."

* * *

When Izuna opens the fusuma so Tōka can join them for breakfast his cousin loses her words and entire train of thought mid-sentence, staring at him with eyes round and jaw sagging. She can't seem to find her words again and spends the entire meal stealing glances at him over her bowl, chakra shifting through a bewilderingly varied array of emotions including pain, longing, determination and fear.

Tobirama does not attempt to untangle them; his cousin's feelings are not his responsibility.

"You look," she manages eventually as Izuna packs the bowls away, "so _much_ like your mother."

Tobirama hums vaguely; he doesn't remember ever seeing his mother in anything other than her green everyday kimono with the pine-print or her plain black under-armour, both worn with the Hatake mountain-edged haori when out of the house, well-regimented curls usually tied back in a tight bun, but he will take Tōka's word for it; she is two years older than he and has a clearer memory of those times.

Tobirama remembers his mother as beautiful, but he assumes most children do. Tōka also idolised her as a role model, because Hatake Kikuno had been a warrior before becoming Senju Kikuno and spending her health in giving her husband a son a year for four years, then dying five years after that while struggling to bring a daughter into the world.

Tōka's firm disinclination to marry as a result of his mother's death is very understandable really. He doesn't know _all_ her reasons, but to not _want_ to marry and have children is surely sufficient reason not to do so.

"I want to hear _all_ about your walk when you get back," his cousin adds, emotions still a whirl of guilt, wistfulness and determination. "So no spending all of it gazing into Izuna-sama's eyes and enjoying how it makes her blush!"

"Hey," Izuna protests reflexively, "like _you_ didn't spend all of breakfast staring."

Tōka turns and huffs at Izuna. "My grumpy brat cousin has suddenly grown up _stunning;_ I'm allowed to be a little shocked!"

Izuna raises an eyebrow, her tattoo twisting slightly with the movement. "Suddenly?" She asks dryly.

"He's my _younger_ _cousin_ , it's not something I was _looking_ for."

"Ladies, please," Tobirama interrupts firmly. "I would like my promised walk."

Izuna picks up the bento boxes, gets to her feet and bows. "As you wish."

Getting up is more of a production for Tobirama, having to take care not to catch his feet on any of his layers of kimono or the trailing obi, but he doesn't rush himself. He arrives in the genkan to find Izuna waiting, the bento-boxes vanished somewhere and a murasaki purple haori added to the kimono, obi and hakama of that same fantastically costly shade.

The haori is tied with the peony-pink cords he made for her; Tobirama is suddenly _very tempted_ to press his mouth to her cheek and leave the imprint of his lips there.

Later, he promises himself. He's dressed as expensively as a daimyo's wife –possibly _more_ so– and has various extras and accessories both tucked into his obi and in the bag hanging off his wrist, including a fan because it's a sunny day in May and he _will_ need it. He is wearing enough layers to all but ensure that.

Once he has put his feet in his new zōri sandals Izuna offers him a hand; Tobirama takes it, unable to keep himself from smiling as he is drawn _out_ of the Diplomatic Quarters without a single twinge from the seal painted across his spine.

He is _outside_ , in the _sunshine_ , for the first time in far too long.

* * *

It is dizzying, intoxicating, _overwhelming_ to be outside among so many people –so many _children_ – after so many weeks with only one or two others for company. His senses are still muffled, but he can sense a good ten metres in all directions and that's _several times_ what he's been coping with; the sheer _busyness_ of that tiny range is enough for him to make an effort to smother his range further, to block out the din.

Boys running every-which-way, from unsteady toddlers to laughing teenagers, in ones and twos, in squad-like groupings and occasional larger groups, both with girls and not, all chattering and laughing and eating sweets. No fine clothing on anybody younger than five, but every young man old enough for the battlefield is wearing hakama and so are many adults with children; the children themselves are wearing brightly printed and painted festival kimono, all the vibrant colours of spring decorated with auspicious symbols and variously stylised animals and plants. Not _every_ man is dressed-up –this is clearly a festival for fathers as much as for sons– but those who are not appear to be either helping to set up food stands or heading out on patrol, so it might just be those who are working who are not dressed for the occasion.

And who knows, they may well change later once their duties are completed.

Then what looks like two men with four children between them stride past, and Tobirama realises that Izuna is likely _not_ the only women in hakama; she _did_ say that being a warrior means her father flies a koi banner on her behalf, so it follows that there are _other_ women in the Uchiha Outguard who do likewise. He did know there _were_ other women in the Uchiha Outguard, but seeing how well they blend in with the men even in their own clan compound is still surprising.

However he is not the only one dressed up in fine embroidery and fluttering sleeves: there are young mothers in visiting kimono, older girls in deeply-winged furisode chatting in groups and occasionally flirting with similarly-aged young men, teenage girls in vibrantly colourful outfits and greying grandmothers in elegantly subdued garments. A full range of ages, so different from the rather strongly generational Senju; there is almost nobody in the clan of an age with him, most of them being either three to six years older or at least two years younger.

Not like this, where there are _dozens_ of children and teenagers of every age.

It's not just the children that are loud; adults are talking amongst themselves, he glimpsed and heard a group of musicians practicing in a square at the end of a side-road between buildings and there are cats _everywhere_ , many of them begging for treats. Some more successfully than others.

It's a bit much actually.

"Izuna-san?" He asks, pitching his voice under the high-pitched chatter flowing around them.

"Yes, Tobirama-san?"

Oh, so he's 'san' in public is he? Well, it's _something_ at least.

"Could we go somewhere… quieter?"

Izuna glances around them at the riotous excitable children dashing all over the place. "I don't see why not; let me gets us some mochi."

"And chimaki," Tobirama reminds her, letting himself be led towards an awning in front of a traditional town-house shop-front with a stand set out under it.

"And chimaki, for my lovely concubine," Izuna agrees easily, flashing a grin at him as the people at the stand hear Izuna and immediately start moving a range of the displayed sweets into a paper box then tying a square of cloth around it into a bag.

Nobody is paying for anything, of course; everybody here is clan, and within a clan a festival is an opportunity to share freely.

Izuna passes Tobirama the bag of sweets, produces a paper umbrella from the general vicinity of her sleeve and opens it over them –the shade is nice and reminds Tobirama that he can't just use chakra to fend off sun-burn like he usually does– then takes him by the hand –fingers twining together– and sets off down a side-road away from the centre of the festival.

It's not a quick walk –Izuna lets Tobirama set the pace, seeing as he is stiflingly dressed and has no chakra to lean on– but they eventually pass through a gate into an orchard of persimmon trees, which are flowering. Izuna then passes him the paper umbrella, brings out a picnic blanket and carefully lays it out under the trees.

Tobirama passes the umbrella back to his wife, along with the sweets and his little bag, then carefully sits on the blanket and makes sure the long tails of his obi are tidy behind him. Izuna then hands him the umbrella again and sits herself opposite him, setting the bags down on the blanket beside them and bringing out a tray, a gourd of water and a couple of cups, all of which are set down out of range of Tobirama's hanging sleeves.

"How much _are_ you carrying around in your sleeves?"

Izuna grins mischievously. "Less than I might, but more than you'd think," she teases.

"Any food more substantial than sweets?"

"I did pack lunch for the two of us, yes," Izuna agrees, "but that's for later. Now once the initial excitement of sweets and banners has worn off the children will spread out more and there'll be more people passing by, but I think there's several hours before that happens; it's early still and this is a fairly quiet part of the compound."

Tobirama lets the umbrella roll across his shoulder a little and pulls out his fan to half-hide behind. "So if I asked you to untie your hakama so I can kiss you in places the lip-paint _won't_ show, you would?" He teases.

Izuna rocks back on her heels and fans herself with one hand. "And you call _me_ shameless, Treasure!"

"That's not a no," Tobirama notes, eyeing her challengingly.

"My impeccably-dressed concubine wishes to _publically_ ravish me?" Izuna inquires, eyes laughing. "When anybody might wander this way and see us?"

Still not a 'no,' Tobirama notes with increasing interest. It _had_ originally been a pure tease intended to fluster, but if Izuna is _willing_ … "If you lie on your back I can bend over you, and be less obvious," he points out, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Part of him very much _likes_ the idea of reducing Izuna to a sticky, weak-kneed breathless _mess_ when she will then have to immediately tie up her clothes again and spend the rest of her day with lip-paint smeared in intimate places, staining her underwear. He also likes the idea of being able to spend the rest of the day discreetly teasing Izuna by touching up his lip-paint in the hand-mirror, and the slightly more vindictive idea of forcing whoever Tajima has assigned to keep an eye on them to watch as he almost effortlessly coaxes his captor into making herself vulnerable to him.

Izuna's face slides into something closer to seriousness. "You want to do this?"

Tobirama pauses. "I want _you_ to want to do this," he decides, tapping his fan on his chin. "If you don't," he carefully shrugs one shoulder, mindful of his layered outfit, "that's fine." He is sadly too well-layered to be able to pleasure _himself_ at the same time, but the bite of self-denial will add heat to his teasing.

"So why do _you_ want to do this?"

Tobirama tries to put all the layers into words; if he doesn't, Izuna will no doubt just say no and that will be that. "I like the sunshine overhead and the scent of the trees, and the spring breeze," he begins slowly, "and being outside again –properly outside– after so long is… stimulating. And part of me feels that the only way to _improve_ on this would be if I could add the scent of your pleasure to it."

Izuna finds that admission _interesting_ , he can tell by how her scent slides sideways into something that is almost desire, but not quite. Izuna _always_ listens, which is why Tobirama has been making an increasing effort to talk to her over the past weeks; he can, in fact, talk her into things. Especially in regards to their relationship.

"Then there is the part of me that feels it would be _appealing_ to spend the rest of the day subtly teasing you about the fact you have my lip-paint smeared somewhere _very_ private, and that it's going to stain your underwear so by tomorrow the laundresses will know _too_ ," Tobirama continues, still fiddling with his fan and watching Izuna steadily under his lashes, "and that I would very much _enjoy_ teasing you all day on my promised walk, then upon professing to tiredness go back to the Diplomatic Quarters and then set about transferring some of that sticky mess of arousal and lip-paint onto my sheets, and add my seed to the mix as well."

It's a very messy and inappropriate fantasy –a person should be _clean_ for sex– but that just makes him like it that much more. He _wants_ to besmirch Izuna, to tumble her in the dirt so she spends the rest of the day with dead grass and crushed flower petals in her hair, dishevelled and smelling of sex to anybody with the nose to notice, then lay her out on his futon and get her _filthier_ to the point he has to change the sheets a few days early, just so that Izuna gets teased and side-eyed over it afterwards.

"I would also enjoy proving to those watchers I _know_ your father has assigned that no matter what they would _like_ to believe, _I_ am the one having _my_ way with _your_ body, _not_ the other way around."

Izuna eyes him measuredly. "You know, I had taken you for a private person, Tobirama-san," she says quietly. "But that's not entirely true, is it?"

Tobirama sets both fan and umbrella down and _glares_. "I _am_ a private person," he says sharply, clenching his hands into fists in his lap, "and if I were _courting_ you, I would _never_ ask such a thing. But we are _not_ courting; you have seized me and are now _flaunting_ me. Well and good; I can't stop you. But I _am_ going to flaunt _back_."

Izuna's chakra is abruptly muffled and obscured, but her posture stays soft and so does her face. "You want to push it in the faces of my clan –and specifically my father– that you are important enough to me that I will _allow_ you ravish me somewhere anybody could see –and many _will_ see– because you mean more to me than my reputation." Her lips twitch. "Such as it is."

Tobirama had actually been leaning into, 'because you lust after me enough to prioritise that without thinking of your dignity,' but her words are _more_ than that. She is making it less about impulse and more about choice. For Izuna to _choose_ this, to choose his –admittedly very petty– request over the dignity and integrity of her high rank…

"You don't have to," he says.

"But you'd like it if I did."

"That's not a good enough reason."

Izuna raises an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

Tobirama glares, trying to keep the desperate flutter in his chest _off_ his face. " _No._ "

"Why not?"

"Because I am being very petty and personal, but you _are_ a high-ranking member of your- _our_ clan and are therefore held to a higher example; the wellbeing and strength of the clan is more important than my feelings." The clan is _always_ more important than the individual.

Izuna pauses. "What _is_ a clan, Tobirama? Humour me please."

Tobirama frowns. He's not entire sure what she's asking.

"In my eyes, the Uchiha clan is just people. People who are mostly related to me by blood yes, and whom I am responsible for helping to lead and protect, but still just people." Izuna explains, meeting his eyes steadily. "You are no less a person than they, and I am the _only_ person you can turn to and hope to be heard by, so it is only proper that I prioritise _your_ desires over theirs, no matter _how_ petty and personal. There are many other Lineage Heads in-clan who can champion _their_ needs and wants, after all."

She grins, abruptly vicious. "And I too would take pleasure in shoving it in my father's face that you _really enjoy_ fucking me witless rather than it being something I _inflict_ on you."

Tobirama had been all set to tell her it didn't matter until that last sentence. "He thinks _what?"_

Izuna's eyes flash. "He all but accused me of raping you," she says tightly. "As though you wouldn't touch me otherwise. You're an _enemy_ after all, not a _person_." Her chakra is half-visible again and she _hurts_.

Perfect, blinding fury swallows Tobirama whole for several long seconds, both for the indictment of Izuna's _impeccable_ integrity and the implication that he _didn't_ choose this. That he didn't _choose_ to become Izuna's concubine, _knowing_ what it meant, for Tōka's sake. That he is so blinded by the feud between their clans to _not_ see Izuna for herself. Tobirama is offended for _both_ of them.

He gropes for his bag, with its mirror and lip-paint. "Lie down for me," he demands.

"Tobirama?"

"Please, lie down for me," he amends firmly, "So I can untie your hakama and kiss you until I hit the point where you're almost too sensitive to enjoy it anymore." Izuna will be a sodden, trembling mess _long_ before that, but Tobirama has a _point_ to make. His wife _will_ be flushed and loose-limbed all day and he is going to flirt a _lot_ , just so as to drive his agency in this very _thoroughly_ home. He breathes carefully; anger and lust make for a volatile combination.

Izuna licks her lips, then sets her palm flat on the ground, conjuring a glimmering circle of chakra around the orchard. "So nobody younger than sixteen will notice us," she explains; "I don't want to have to stop to explain ourselves to nosy spectating children."

Tobirama nods, appreciating the precaution as he opens the lip-paint.

"You're putting on more?"

He looks up at her over the top of the mirror. "I," he says very precisely, "want to smear enough of this on you that it not only it leaves reddish stains in your underwear, but it transfers off you onto _me_ and _my_ sheets when I _do_ get around to fucking you witless later." Because he is _going_ to.

Izuna crawls closer, then sits back and splays her legs so her shins are bracketing his knees.

"Closer," Tobirama says, dipping one fingertip in the slightly greasy red paint and neatly coating his mouth with it. He's going to end up with it smeared all over _his_ face too, but there's a little towel and a handkerchief in his bag so he can deal with that. Izuna has even set out a gourd of water he can use to wash his face with, but that is for later.

Izuna is now sitting facing him with her knees resting around his, leaning her weight back on her hands and staring at his mouth, chakra radiating fascination, trepidation and anticipation.

"Have you got a cushion?" Izuna wordlessly produces one. "Sit on it, please." She does so, leaning all her weight on one hand so as to slide it under her behind.

Tobirama puts the mirror and lip-paint away, cautiously pressing his sticky lips together. He is aware of looking _very_ gaudy right now, but bubbling fury smothers any shame he might have felt and his wife's rapt attention makes it clear _she_ has no objections. He leans forwards and undoes the hakama ties behind Izuna's back, folding down the front half of the garment, then folds the tucked-in lower edge of the shorter kimono and nagajuban _up_ and takes off her loin-wrap, setting it aside out of her reach.

"Lie back for me, Izuna," he says, letting his own anticipation add depth and heat to his voice. The way she sinks to the ground is _very_ gratifying, especially with how her head is on the very edge of the blanket; she's _definitely_ going to end up with dead grass and dust rubbed liberally into her hair.

The cushion tilts her hips up, and a little tugging here and there gets the angle just right for Tobirama to lean over. He pauses halfway down to meet Izuna's eyes.

"Feel free," he says deliberately, "to be as loud and desperate as you wish. Tōka can't hear us." Go ahead, he does not need to say, and make it _unmissable_ to everybody within earshot that you have surrendered control of this situation to me and I am taking _full_ advantage of that.

Then he picks up the loin-wrap and lays it out just under her behind, so as not to stain the expensive purple of the hakama, and bends over his wife to make good on his promises.

* * *

Lunchtime finds Izuna sweaty, shaking, dishevelled and only recently re-dressed, propped up against a tree with a smugly pristine Tobirama kneeling between her splayed thighs and sharing out the contents of the bento box with a single pair of chopsticks, feeding Izuna a morsel and then eating one himself. He still _aches_ from not having been able to join his wife at even _one_ of her peaks, and that frustration possibly goaded him into being a little more forceful than he would usually be, but Izuna certainly did not _complain_ about that. Rather the opposite, in fact.

His wife very thoughtfully packed sushi; Tobirama generously doesn't eat it all himself, even though right now he suspects Izuna wouldn't notice if he did. It's _very_ clear that her own body is currently commanding the majority of her attention.

"If you're like this now," Izuna manages breathlessly once the bento is empty and Tobirama is opening the box of sweets, "Then I shudder to think what you'd do to me if you had access to chakra."

"If I had access to chakra," Tobirama says caressingly, reaching out to lightly glide his fingertips over her throbbing jugular, "I could heal the soreness caused by friction so I wouldn't have to stop _before_ reaching that point." It would also give him _considerably_ more stamina and more ways to touch her intimately, seeing as early healing lessons had included instructions on how to numb pain and all the ways to get it wrong, which –rather mortifyingly hilariously– include accidentally stimulating extreme pleasure.

Tobirama was an attentive student; he knows how to do that on purpose. He has in fact done it before.

"This is your evil plan, isn't it?" Izuna jokes weakly. "Tempt me with even _more_ intense sex so I give you access to your chakra."

"Is it working?" Tobirama asks idly, ignoring the chopsticks and holding the kashiwa-mochi to her lips with his fingers; his wife bites the sweet in half, then whimpers very quietly when he calmly slides the remaining half into his own mouth.

His wife chews and swallows before answering with, "Not yet."

Tobirama eyes her, amusement bubbling up despite the touchy subject matter. "Are you saying I should keep trying?"

Izuna smiles. "You said it, not me!" She is putting on a good face, but her chakra is still shuddering and her physical scent makes it clear she is still a long way from recovering her poise. He knows enough about women –admittedly mostly from Izuna– to know that while it might take longer for a women to reach her peak, they can enjoy it –and its aftermath– for longer. And be dragged back over it again more quickly than a man can.

Tobirama shoves a chimaki into his wife's mouth, then leans in to pin her to the tree behind her, press his mouth to hers and bite off the half of the sweet that is sticking out. "I'm not usually that much for sweets," he says casually after pulling back, chewing and swallowing, "but _you_ taste _delicious_."

As anticipated, the deliberate reminder of what he has spent most of the morning doing to her still-tender flesh with his mouth and tongue elicits a full-body shudder. Tobirama admires it from under lowered lashes while contemplating the other sweets and pretending not to notice.

"You don't seem to have much of an appetite right now," –because, Tobirama adds within the relative privacy of his own mind, right now your body is still focused on the release shivering under your skin– "So I'll put the rest of the sweets away for later." He re-knots the fabric bag around them, then turns back to Izuna, resting his palms on her splayed thighs so he can lean in close to her face and breathe in the scent of her pleasure and desire.

"Is there something else my treasure would have from me?" Izuna asks quietly, her unsteady breath teasing Tobirama's skin.

Part of Tobirama wants to _strangle_ Izuna. His _idiotically_ giving wife has just let him run roughshod over her most delicate and sensitive tissues for _several hours_ and moaned herself halfway hoarse, and now she's asking him if he wants _more_ , before she's even recovered.

"I want my _very_ well-ravished wife to let me know when she thinks she might be able to wander in a vaguely straight line, so she can take me on my promised walk," Tobirama says, then presses down firmly on her thighs as she tenses and tries to move. "Ah! No. My nose still works just fine and you smell _wrecked_. In half an hour or an hour's time is fine; there's no rush."

Izuna sags back slightly. "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure. You should take better care of yourself," Tobirama scolds, then feels foolish for doing so.

Izuna hums. "Hug me?" She asks very quietly.

Tobirama eyes the shiver in her chakra and the tremble in her hands and decides that yes, that's a very good plan indeed; he rises upright on his knees, carefully shuffling them a little wider for balance. "Lean into me."

His wife leans forwards and presses her cheek into his obi, wrapping her arms around his hips under the obi tails and taking deep, steady breaths; Tobirama carefully cradles the back of her head with one hand and rubs her shoulders and back with the other, feeling his own body grudgingly settle further in response to his concern.

He definitely overdid it; he won't do so again.

* * *

The eventual walk is leisurely, Tobirama balancing the umbrella on his shoulder with his right hand and holding Izuna's right hand in his left, his bag dangling around his right wrist and Izuna carrying the sweets along with the bento, blanket, cushion and other picnic odds and ends in her sleeve seals, leaving her left hand free. He is once more addressed as 'O-Neko-san' by various small children –which makes Izuna giggle– and solemnly accepts the small multi-coloured temari he is presented with as a thank you, sliding it into his bag.

"Honoured Mister Cat?" His wife asks lightly after the children have exuberantly admired his outfit and dashed off to their next activity.

Tobirama elbows her. "I'll take it from them, but not from you; you know better."

Izuna grins. "I do?"

Tobirama smirks, delicately letting his tongue peek out to touch the edge of his newly-painted lips. "Unless you want me to start talking about how _delectable_ you look when you peak with my lip-paint smeared across _your_ lips, yes you do." And Izuna knows he does _not_ mean her mouth.

His wife shivers slightly. "I do know better," she admits quietly, "but I will confess to a little curiosity on how you came by those very impressive teeth."

Tobirama feels inordinately pleased that despite seeming to know just about everything _else_ about him, Izuna does _not_ know about his summons contract. "My mother held the Snow Leopard Contract," he says instead; it's the truth, yet not the full picture.

"A _Leopard_ , not a Cat," his wife muses as they continue down the road; there aren't many people in this particular residential section –which seems to be mostly farm-houses with large gardens and small orchards– but the occasional atonal moaning is very loud here, as is the clucking of the chickens.

Tobirama abruptly decides to ask about the strange sound. "What's that odd noise?"

Izuna pauses. "Odd noise?" She asks, glancing around, abruptly more alert as her chakra sharpens.

"The wailing," Tobirama specifies patiently; it is probably something Uchiha are used to hearing, much like the munching susurrus that pervades the air around the silkworm barn they wandered past earlier.

Izuna's face clears as she grasps what he means, the edge in her posture and chakra vanishing. "Come on, I'll show you." She tugs gently on his hand.

Tobirama follows curiously as the sound stops again; this _will_ be something Tōka will find interesting.

"Here," Izuna says, pausing by a fence and pointing. Tobirama follows her fingertip into the lush garden beyond, which is full of chickens. Very large black chickens, with feathers that gleam in a dozen shades of dark just like crow feathers do. Of _course_ the Uchiha would have black chickens; it suits their sense of drama.

There is a single red-wattled rooster patrolling around the edges of his harem, which are greedily pecking up beetles, bugs, caterpillars and everything else small and mobile that fails to escape fast enough. Then the rooster puffs itself up, opens its beak and _wails_ like a dammed soul, holding the flat tone for longer than Tobirama would have believed _possible_.

He turns on Izuna. "Chickens?!" He hisses.

"Chickens," Izuna agrees, face scrunched up and eyes dancing with glee.

"Half my kin are _convinced_ it's the howling of the spirits of those trees burned down by Uchiha!"

Izuna bursts out laughing, trying to smother the sound with her free hand as she bends double and shakes with mirth. "Alas for the finest chickens that once supplied the old Imperial Palace!" She manages eventually between cackles. "Taken for angry ghosts!"

Of course the Uchiha have imperial chickens; Tobirama doesn't know why he hadn't assumed that to begin with, they have imperial everything else. "I want to go home and tell Tōka about these ridiculous chickens," He decides, tugging on Izuna's hand twined around his, "and share some of the sweets with her before taking you to bed."

"That all sounds wonderful," Izuna confesses, still grinning as she manages to stuff most of her amusement back under the surface and lead Tobirama off in a different direction, presumably towards the Diplomatic Quarters.

There is most _certainly_ a seal over the Uchiha compound, because he can't quite pin down any individual chakra signatures except Izuna's despite having been in close range of so many; they all blur together like they do when outside the compound. It's also interfering with his sense of direction; Tobirama has _excellent_ spatial memory but he _still_ can't remember which direction the sun was coming from at _any_ point along his walk.

Very subtle and effective, but also very annoying when he is trying to plot Tōka's escape.

* * *

When they arrive back at the Diplomatic Quarters Tobirama hesitates on the threshold after handing Izuna the umbrella; the memory of failing to fall off the engawa is in the front of his mind, and after most of a day of glorious freedom he is reluctant to be imprisoned again.

Izuna notices, of course. "Seeing as today's walk went well, I'm sure I can arrange others."

Tobirama turns to look her full in the face. "Really?"

She nods seriously. "Of course. You didn't push any of the boundaries my father insisted you would."

Tobirama smirks at the reminder of those boundaries he _did_ push, with her full permission. "I will hold you to that," he says firmly, then takes a deep breath and steps into the genkan–

–Tōka?!–

–he spins around, tries to step outside again and slams face-first into the barrier. "Where's my cousin?!" He demands, trying to read the expression on Izuna's abruptly closed face less than arm's length from his own, hammering on the invisible, undetectable wall with a fist. "What have you done to Tōka-nee?!"

Izuna's face does not move, but she holds out a hand across the threshold; Tobirama grabs it, lurches through the barrier like it isn't there and slams his fist into her shoulder, painfully aware that he currently has nowhere _near_ the strength needed to make her so much as shift her weight.

Izuna calmly ignores the blow and wraps her free arm around his shoulders, holding him against her chest. "The Amaterasu Head trusts the Outguard Head is satisfied with the innocence of the Amaterasu Head's concubine in this matter?" She says carryingly.

Tobirama stiffens at the implication and looks past Izuna's shoulder; sure enough, lingering back from the building and firmly outside of his pitifully-reduced range, are Uchiha Tajima and several other warriors, who are now coming closer.

"Tōka _escaped?"_ He asks quietly.

"She left the Diplomatic Quarters under her own power about an hour after noon," Izuna replies, equally quietly. "I felt her leave the seal boundary and notified an on-duty kinsman to investigate."

Tobirama does not remember that happening. His unease must be visible, because Izuna adds, "I sent a genjutsu."

Reminded of her fuuinjutsu-genjutsu creations –that are evidently capable of being selectively visible–Tobirama settles again. It is not that his memory has been tampered with, but that Izuna took great care to be discreet. He would be more upset about that, except she was evidently concerned that her father would accuse him of complicity and use Tōka's escape –attempted escape? Where _is_ his cousin– as evidence that Tobirama is not 'sufficiently contained.'

Uchiha Tajima and his lieutenants are now in comfortable earshot, if not arm's reach. "And what does the Amaterasu Head have to say for themselves on the evidently insufficient containment of their prisoner?"

Izuna does not flinch or turn around, her eyes steady on a point beyond Tobirama's ear. "The Amaterasu Head is legally responsible only for the containment of their concubine, which has just been proven as perfectly adequate. Senju Tōka was offered shelter and hospitality for the duration of her injury, and all guests must at some point depart."

"I made you responsible for the Fatal Flower's containment, Izuna-kun."

"The Outguard Head cannot command the Amaterasu Head," Izuna says distantly, chakra rock-steady. "The Outguard Head commanded Uchiha Izuna, senior warrior under their command, to ensure no harm came to the clan at the hands of Senju Tōka. Name to me those kinsmen who have been harmed on clan grounds, and I will accept punishment for the dereliction of that duty."

Several of the lieutenants shift their weight slightly, chakra veiled but uneasy. The sudden pause in the conversation makes it clear that somehow, _nobody_ was actually hurt in Tōka's escape. Which… it makes sense that his cousin would do her best to ensure there wasn't anything that could be used against him, but that success is still surprising.

"And what of the clan secrets she will pass into enemy hands?"

Izuna raises an eyebrow, finally deigning to half-turn her head to meet her father's eye, keeping Tobirama firmly in her arms. "What secrets? I have certainly spoken of no secrets in her hearing, nor have I made them available to her to read. Our laws are not secret and neither are court transcripts or etiquette; second-hand novels are also not clan secrets."

Tajima folds his arms. "Her choice of today to escape on is most interesting, Izuna-kun. Today when not only Madara-kun is absent and you are preoccupied elsewhere, but Hikaku-kun and Taka-kun are also on missions off clan grounds. How could she have known that?"

"I have at no point spoken of missions taken by third parties to my concubine," Izuna says steadily, "save in informing him of the nature of the emergency that led to my own unanticipated absence last week. The Outguard Head must look elsewhere for the one who spoke so laxly in Senju Tōka's presence."

Tobirama knows without _question_ that the person who spoke so carelessly was Saburō, and no doubt Izuna knows it too, by deduction if nothing else. However she is not accusing her little brother of anything, merely allowing her father to draw his own conclusions.

There is another tense pause. A meow breaks it; Tobirama looks down to see a white-and-calico cat sitting on the path, calmly licking a paw; it's one he's seen around a few times, although it has never before come _into_ the garden.

Tobirama watches as every Uchiha present looks at the cat, then exchanges surreptitious glances with each-other.

"Torao-kun was on duty and joined the pursuit party," Izuna says, tone soft and conciliatory. "Has he reported back yet?"

"It has not yet been two hours and the double squad dispatched is yet to return," Tajima replies, chakra very well veiled _indeed._

Izuna ducks her head a calculated fraction. "I would be most grateful were the Outguard Head to have me notified of the outcome of that expedition upon its return."

Tajima nods back, fraction equally calculated. "Of course, General." He turns and leaves, lieutenants trailing him.

Tobirama eyes the cat suspiciously. He is _positive_ he missed something there…

But Tōka. Tōka who was _not_ caught immediately, Tōka who has been gone for long enough to _maybe_ have managed to reach a Senju patrol before the chakra reinforcement of her still-tender bones wasn't enough to keep them from breaking again.

Tōka who _did not tell him she was leaving_. Who had all but _said_ she was waiting for him to return, to be told more of the Uchiha compound so as to be better informed _before_ escaping.

"Shall we go inside?" Izuna asks quietly.

"Yes." Privacy, even within an impregnable cage, will be most welcome. Especially since it is not yet clear _what_ has happened to his cousin.


	20. Chapter 20

Madara runs after Taka, the rest of the handpicked back-up Squad following behind at as fast a pace as they can reasonably maintain. Father must want this dealt with _quickly_ to have sent Taka, who is tracking the 'feel' of both desecrated kinsmen whose eyes they are chasing and has some of Izuna's more dangerously experimental fuuinjutsu painted along her spine, which lets her draw on Madara's strength so that the long, long run up into Lightning doesn't completely deplete her reserves. Yomotsu-shikome might be a fairly low-chakra Mangekyō manifestation compared to Madara's Amaterasu, but over such a long distance it definitely adds up. If it had been just within Fire she might have been fine, or just into some of the bordering nations in the other direction, but up through Hot Water and Frost into Lightning? Taka does not have the reserves for _that_ , not even if she only uses her Mangekyō sparingly.

Izuna is having to pick up the mission he was halfway through, a mission that their father would _never_ normally have assigned to her, but _must_ do so because the bloodline thieves must be dealt with _decisively_ and Madara knows he and Taka are better suited to that. Izuna _could_ do it, in theory, but she's pregnant and allowing a _pregnant_ kinswoman within _miles_ of known bloodline thieves goes against everything it means to be Uchiha.

So Izuna instead gets the mission he was given, a mission that will leave her quiet and sleepless, possibly to the point of miscarrying. Madara desperately hopes otherwise, but the possibility remains.

The quiet, bitter voice in the back of his head that sounds a little bit like Izuna on her worst days wonders whether that was perhaps on purpose; it would certainly be _convenient_ for Father if Izuna was no longer pregnant after all, as he wouldn't have to write to the daimyo with the news of her marriage.

He's tried to put that thought out of his mind five times now, but it keeps sneaking in again. Hikaku and a ninjutsu-heavy squad would have been a better choice for that mission than Izuna, even though his little brother _can_ do single-handedly more or less what he can, if with more ingenuity and less chakra.

It's awkward to think of Izuna as his little brother now she's pregnant, but he's been calling her that –to her face and in his mind– for a decade now, and such habits are not easily changed. But he _does_ have to change it, seeing as Izuna will be retiring for the rest of her pregnancy at the very least and the idea of a heavily pregnant _brother_ sits oddly in his mind, even when that brother is Izuna.

He hopes Izuna's okay. He hopes she doesn't lose the baby, partly because if she _does_ and decides it was Father's fault, Father is not going to survive it. He _knows_ her, he can _see_ she is _all_ their father, just with different goals and priorities, and Izuna would _absolutely_ consider their father's actions in delaying mention of her marriage and pressuring her to the point of miscarriage as an attack on the clan's future.

And the other Lineage Heads would agree with her, even though barely half of them are interested enough in peace to support Izuna's efforts in that direction. Madara does _not_ want to walk in the gates of the clan compound at the end of this mission and be addressed as 'Outguard Head'.

Hopefully Father can see that too. He always approved of Izuna's creative problem-solving before she dragged Tobirama home and even now he's _still_ supporting the ongoing pause in the conflict with the Senju, so Madara should still have a family when he gets home.

He hopes Hashirama's doing better. He's not seen his maybe-friend since that profoundly unnerving fight on the day of the Flower Festival, which is probably a good sign but not really helpful. He's _never_ seen Hashirama like that.

That was more like a distorted reflection of Madara's own nightmares, where he comes home to find _both_ his siblings lying cold in a pool of blood and goes entirely mad.

It _won't_ happen; he's witnessed the strength of Izuna's –his _sister's_ – fuuinjutsu, has seen and had explained to him all the layers and subtleties of the defences she has added to the Clan Hall over the years. Nobody who wishes them dead can step further than the central hall their father uses as an office and reception room, and there are other precautions against airborne poisons, fire, lightning strikes and more. He _knows_ it won't happen, but his heart still fears, remembering the horror of running home to find his father kneeling on the doorstep surrounded by dead Senju warriors, hugging a limp and bloody-eyed Izuna to his chest and weeping tears of aching relief that she was not yet dead –she looked so _small_ Izuna had _never_ looked small to him before– then following the screaming of his littlest brother to find the toddler tugging on Myōkō's arm, the five-year-old cold and sodden with the futon under him dark and _squelching_ –

Madara forcibly contains the memory, using his Amaterasu mind-ordering training to untangle it from the present and file it at the back of his mind as 'not currently relevant'. It will escape again –it always does– but in the meantime he will have thoughts unclouded by the horror of memory and the unease of irrational fears.

* * *

On a map, Lightning looks small compared to Fire. However that is deceptive, because Lightning is not _remotely_ small; the land is crumpled like Izuna's shibori experiments, vast areas soaring upwards in sharp peaks and deep gorges, all of it intensely challenging to traverse. The thieves are still together –or close enough that Taka still registers them as a single direction rather than several conflicting ones– and do not appear to have realised yet that they are pursued, but seeing as they have most of a week's head start and appear to have instantly retreated north into the depths of their homeland, that does not mean much.

Madara and his hunting squad are moving fast enough to be ahead of the inevitable rumours concerning their presence –and rumours _are_ inevitable when they crossed the border in a whirl of black fire and they have set aflame every inn and barn which betrays traces of the thieves' chakra– but that will not necessarily last. This is not their homeland, they do not know the hidden ways and Taka's Mangekyō guides her in a straight line only, so moving across mountainous terrain requires her to stop regularly as they try to puzzle out more efficient ways of crossing the distance than simply running up one side of a mountain and down the other.

They do have maps –the Squad Izuna brought up to meet him had packed them– and it helps, but the maps only show topography and major roads, not deer-tracks and smugglers' routes, so they are having to add those as they find them. It is going to take them at least another half-week to catch up; possibly as many as two weeks if their quarry catches wind of them and splits up in an attempt to get away, or if it turns out the stolen eyes have changed hands a few times. There is always _somebody_ who coverts Uchiha eyes and their inherent power, and this is far from the first time somebody has wanted them badly enough to enact or commission murder and corpse desecration; however this is the first time it has happened in _his_ lifetime, and if he and Taka are vehement enough in their retribution, it may also be the _last_ time it happens in his lifetime.

Taka _can_ find every pair of hands that have come into contact with Hiroto and Kasa's eyes, but those lesser trails will only become apparent once their eyes have been found, reclaimed and properly burnt with all honours. Izuna kindly included a few sticks of incense-wood in the squad's seal-enhanced bags along with the needed rations, chakra supplements, spare weaponry, currency and changes of clothing, so it can be a proper funeral ensuring his kinsmen have no ties left binding them to the mortal plane, rather than a quick battlefield send-off requiring additional prayers and incense-burning afterwards.

Such a long hunt is _not_ good for Taka, but she volunteered for this and they cannot _afford_ not to make use of her skills, lest the hunt overlook someone and the survivor take that as invitation to transgress again. The rest of the Squad have decided to compensate for this by putting her and Madara on the same watch rotation, which means that even if Madara had tried _not_ to wrap around her when going to sleep on a break in the run, he would end up there anyway by morning. He can't help it; he's _used_ to having Izuna there at home and when he's with his usual Squad they take it in turns to share a rotation with him and let him curl up around them to sleep.

Taka takes it with as much grace as an older woman grieving a lost love can, which is more longsuffering tolerance of his inability to _not_ treat her like a favourite stuffed toy than anything else, but it _is_ helping her stay on an even keel. It also helps that she was Izuna's genjutsu sempai when his broth– _sister_ first joined the Outguard, so she has long been aware of Madara's deeply unfortunate tendency to sleepwalk if he doesn't have another kinsman to hold onto.

And sometimes even when he does; if Izuna is within his limited sensing range or sometimes when he is simply _aware_ of her being in the general vicinity upon going to sleep, he _will_ wander off to look for her. It had _infuriated_ their father when it first manifested when Madara was thirteen, but these days he plans around it with barely a pause.

Taka slows; Madara flexes his chakra, signalling the change in pace to those further behind them, and falls in step beside the older woman as she relinquishes the active manifestation of her Mangekyō and drops to a more leisurely speed. It's the middle of the night, but the sharingan makes darkness no obstacle at all.

"Coming up on them soon, Madara-sama," she says, voice flat with an anticipatory edge. Madara knows already that Taka is likely to do much of the killing herself –the ending of her Mangekyō manifestation is less costly to her when she does so– but he will still be setting the location and its environs on fire, and any nearby settlements the thieves were associated with as well. Which is much of why their father would _never_ assign such a mission to Izuna; it is entirely the opposite of her usual methods, so the impression left in her wake would be accordingly forgettable.

"A slower entry, to see where and how they try to run, or a swift strike?" He asks her. He knows she has _some_ awareness of her targets –that is how her Mangekyō works– so asking will net him pertinent intelligence.

Taka hums, coming to a complete stop and sketching a few lines in the dust; activating his own Mangekyō for a half-second, Madara easily reads the potential in the half-finished shapes and the cues granted by topography and terrain. "We split, I think," she says idly, drawing her foot across the sketch as the rest of the Squad joins them, pulling out water bottles and supplements to refresh themselves. "You give the rest of us half an hour to get in position, then make a steady entry along the valley, burning as you go." She waves at the valley in question, which is more of a ravine with scattered and scrubby vegetation clinging to its sides. "If they sense you coming, we'll catch them as they run; if not, they'll burn alive."

"A fit funeral pyre," Madara agrees quietly; he can add the incense-wood to the blaze once Taka assures him they got everything. "Half an hour by the stars, starting now."

The other four nod and vanish up the nearby cliff-face in swift bounds, Taka leading; Madara fishes his own food out of his bag and settles in to wait.

Not long now and their kin will be avenged.

* * *

As soon as Saburō has left with the bento box after lunch Tōka pulls the shōji open, then carefully shuffles down the hallway, across the stone room and into the washroom to use the toilet, then shuffles over to Tobirama's tansu –it _is_ his after all, Izuna got it for his clothes despite her little cousin insisting on keeping the various old, shortened, much-mended dōnuki layers that are all she's worn for the better part of two months in there– and opens the bottom draw where the indigo work-wear that was what he spent the first few weeks wearing are kept.

She's never worn this kind of thing herself and dressing while sat on the floor is not easy, but she's watched Tobirama put these on several times and knows how it's supposed to go; that they're designed to be easy to wear helps. Loin-wrap, undershirt, indigo short trousers and plain shin wraps, indigo shirt; once dressed Tōka takes down her elegant topknot and instead does her hair in the plain secure style that Izuna uses and taught to Tobirama. There; that is as close to looking Uchiha as she is going to be able to manage.

Or perhaps not; Tōka pulls the tansu out further, revealing Madara's spare coat. It's bad enough she's going to be barefoot for this, so she wants all the protection she can get. Settling it in her lap, she closes the drawer and sets about the laborious process of shuffling on her behind back to the tatami room, where her newly-finished laundry basket project awaits.

Tōka places her pillow book in the bottom of the basket, sets the novels on top –unlike the pillow book she is only taking those as something to throw– adds two of the dōnuki roughly packed over the books and sets the folded coat on the top; she will be wearing the coat, but looking like she's running an errand will help her get further. Nobody stops people running errands.

She hopes –prays– that this will work. She needs to get home, so people will know _why_ Tobirama is now married to 'an Uchiha Heiress' and who that heiress _is_. The clan _needs_ to know what Izuna has in mind, and what might happen to them if she does not get what she wants. She has spent these past weeks thinking over the younger woman's plan, revisiting it time and again with each new revelation afforded by the Uchiha Legal Code and the etiquette guide and those dry, dull, cumbersome court transcripts, and she does not like the implications.

If the Senju do _not_ sue for peace, then once Madara ascends to Outguard Head their days will be numbered; Tobirama is right that the daimyo will do _much_ to ensure noble privilege remains unquestionable, and now she _also_ knows that the Uchiha are supplying the daimyo's household with purple silk that _won't_ fade –and that the Uchiha therefore hold the daimyo's favour for the foreseeable future– if the Senju are to _survive_ then a ceasefire and negotiations thereafter are truly the only way forward.

She doesn't _like_ it, but it is true that she lives only because Izuna _asked_ Hikaku to keep her alive. And her squad and those others who chased after her may have been left broken and screaming, but they _lived_.

Hikaku didn't have to do that.

Look at her, thinking of him as 'Hikaku' and not 'the Deathblow.'

Shaking her head, Tōka checks outside the shōji with a quick glance –there's not _usually_ anybody around this side of the building at this time of day, but the festival could throw that off– then shuffles herself out of the doors backwards, dragging the basket. Upon reaching the edge of the engawa she lies on her back to lower the basket over the edge, then very carefully rolls onto her front and leans down, hips flat on the boards and upper body hanging. The engawa is not that high; she can easily set her palms flat on the ground.

Having determined this, Tōka takes the folded coat out of the top of the laundry basket and wrestles it over her back, getting her arms into the sleeves but not bothering to tie it up. Then she leans back down, lifts the deliberately bottom-heavy laundry basket up by the handles and swings it slightly under the engawa, then lets momentum carry it forwards.

Back, and forwards. Back, and forward. Back, and _release_.

The flight arc is shallow, but the shrubbery of the garden is all ruthlessly clipped to _below_ the height of the engawa so the basket clears it easily, colliding with the fence and falling on its side just to one side of the gate.

Perfect.

Tōka leans down again, plants her hands flat on the moss and carefully levers her lower body up from her core muscles until she is standing on her hands, swaying as the hem of the heavy coat flops down to trail at about wrist level. She should have taken the time to fasten it; no changing that now though, the longer she delays the more likely she is to be discovered. Walking on her hands, Tōka navigates the garden to the fence, then turns around so she can feed her legs _through_ it, using the beams to support her weight as her knees touch the packed earth and she extracts torso and head from the grounds of the Diplomatic Quarters.

Her chakra returns in a giddy rush; Tōka instantly reinforces her femurs, stands, straightens and does up her coat, leans over the fence and picks up the basket, then sets off east –towards the river– with the basket perched against her hip, obvious laundry visible at the top.

She walks briskly, conscious of her bare feet. Once she is _out_ of Uchiha grounds she will run, but before then she needs to allay suspicion.

The laundry basket meows; Tōka almost drops it. The small grey head that emerges from under the crumpled linen is almost a relief; it's _not_ one of the larger summons cats, but the dainty grey queen who has been visiting almost daily for the past… has it been two weeks?

"We're just going for a walk," she says to the cat, trying to emulate those few times she's seen Uchiha chatting to barn cats and village mousers. They talk to cats like they all understand human speech despite only summons having the intelligence and faculties for that; Tōka is not Tobirama with his acute chakra perception, but she can sense her cat companion does not have the chakra a summons would. The cat is just a cat.

The cat mews, then jumps out of the basket –Tōka is grateful for her chakra enhancement, although two months without so much as _touching_ her inner energies have definitely made her sloppy– and onto her shoulder, climbing into the high collar of the stolen coat and settling around her neck like a purring shawl.

She can _see_ the river between the buildings when an Uchiha Squad appears, running along the wide cobbled track she is crossing. One of them points at her; Tōka instantly drops six different genjutsu and _flees_ for the water.

The first grab at her she foils with a crumpled dōnuki to the face; the second she ducks under before darting across the river, turning at bay to pelt the would-be-pursuers with the novels –three ducked, one burned; a sad loss– then she sets her heading south-east, cranks up her chakra enhancement hard enough to glow slightly and _runs_ , calling on her chakra nature to steady her feet and strengthen her body.

It's an hour from the southern curve of the river to the Senju compound, more or less; Izuna's got her hands full with Tobirama, Madara's in Lightning with the Vengeful Ghost –her name is apparently Taka– and Saburō let slip that Hikaku was heading up into Waterfall today, so there's nobody giving chase who is faster than her. Normally.

She's not sure how her tender bones will cope with that degree of speed, so she's not running as fast as she _could;_ re-breaking a leg would waste all her careful planning and leave her in Tajima's far-less-merciful hands rather than Izuna's.

* * *

She's nowhere near the sensor Tobirama is, but Tōka knows she's being followed; _ten_ warriors, not just the five who caught her on the road. Two vees like geese in flight, one to her left and one to her right, trying to catch her between them. She also wants to laugh; she's unarmed, barefoot and a well-placed blow will snap her healing legs like tinder. _One squad_ is excessive; two is borderline ridiculous.

Unless they're actually trying to catch her alive, which is almost worse. She doesn't want to be maimed.

An old battlefield creates an entirely unwanted clearing; Tōka throws the remaining dōnuki into the air to obscure sightlines, then grabs the pillow book against her chest –it's a _Fire Country_ one, her Uzumaki cousins will pay her a _fortune_ just to copy it out and Izuna _gave_ it to her, it's _hers_ – so she can also throw the basket at the Uchiha trying to cut across her path from the side.

The basket catches the would-be-ambusher square in the gut, bowling them over, but Tōka can't stop to gloat and doesn't even have a blade to finish the job with _anyway_ so she just keeps running.

Runs faster; it's been about an hour already, she'll be coming up the outer range of the eastern patrol routes soon –she's not aiming for the old route as it'll have changed but it'll be in the same general area– and the trickiest part of the whole escape.

Her clan think she's dead, and she's _dressed_ like an Uchiha. _Not_ getting killed in those first few seconds will be the hard part. Her father's darker hair and her mother's sharper bones won't help her there; her lighter eyes will though, if she can get close enough and ensures somebody actually _looks_ at her.

It takes many long, desperate minutes for her to be close enough to sense the nearest patrol; cousin Hattōma –seventeen and not as good as he thinks he is– with reliable Yagura –twenty-six– and senior Chigi –twenty-eight.

Chigi is on Tobirama's battle-squad; _was_ on her little cousin's battle-squad. However now Butsuma's shuffled people around in the aftermath, Chigi won't be anywhere senior; he's older yes, but he's average and more concerned with surviving to go home to his wife and children than with bettering his rank.

He was a reliable support to Tobirama in the field, but with her cousin out of action and believed dead –Tōka really doubts her uncle's shared the contents of the daimyo's letter just yet, although he's probably received it by now– he's probably struggling to find a new niche.

He's also somebody who will double-check rather than taking her head off as a precaution; so is Yagura, which puts her survival chances at above half-odds.

It's enough.

She launches herself through the bushes as Chigi's chakra sharpens, hitting the ground with her shoulder and rolling over so she ends up flat on her back staring up into her distant kinsman's wide hazel eyes.

"Hattōma ate a live fish on a dare when he was ten!" She shouts, "Yagura has a crush on Keika!"

"Tōka?!"

"Kai!"

"Uchiha!"

"Your eldest's first word was 'poo!' and your wife made you sleep on the porch for a week!"

Chigi lowers his hastily drawn sword but still moves well out of reach, despite her being flat on her back. "It's Tōka," he says again, more clearly now everybody's not shouting at once. "Her or her ghost."

"Uchiha!" Yagura says sharply and the patrol turn as one towards the direction Tōka arrived from.

Her pursuers look _much_ more numerous when spread out like that, easily flanking the tiny patrol.

"Mao!" The cat climbs out of her collar, settles on her chest facing the Uchiha and wraps its tail around its paws.

Tension on the Uchiha side of the field instantly drops: chakra loses focus, hands drop from swords and the slightly greying man who is evidently in charge sighs audibly and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Torao," he says, beckoning. A younger man to his left steps forwards, goes down on one knee and makes brief eye-contact with the cat, gently flicking at the grass.

The cat ignores them, rubbing its face against Tōka's torso. The Uchiha all visibly exchange glances.

Tōka _cannot believe_ that the fight has been stopped by a _cat_. Yagura glances her way then back at the Uchiha, clearly hoping for guidance despite being unsure whether she is actually who she appears to be.

Tōka decides she may as well die standing if things go wrong, so tries to sit up; the cat digs its claws into the coat and yowls demandingly, so she steadies it with both hands and the pillow book as she pours even more chakra into her poor abused bones and totters to her feet. Oh _ow;_ oh she's sore now.

Across the field, most of the Uchiha are now looking at Torao, who is looking slightly pole-axed; he gets to his feet slowly, hands palm-down in front of him as non-threateningly as possible, and then _mews_.

The cat in Tōka's arms chirps back. She looks down at it, feeling unexpectedly betrayed. There is still no sense of refined chakra and it looks so _normal_. "You're a _summons?"_

The cat gazes soulfully up at her and meeps.

Torao turns towards the two Uchiha squad leaders and there is a pause, followed by both warriors looking at each-other, sharingan spinning steadily, then at the cat.

"Fine," says the greying warrior who is evidently in charge, waving a hand; the Senju patrol tenses but half the Uchiha melt back into the trees, reducing the odds from a deeply unfavourable ten-to-four to a more manageable five-to-four. "Senju Tōka-san."

She looks up from the traitor cat in her arms. "Yes?"

"Give Madara's coat back and we'll call it a day."

"The coat?"

The man's face is calmly implacable, eyes fading from patterned red to near-black. "It's not your coat, Senju Tōka-san. You were not given it, and have no right to wear it."

"I give you the coat and you'll all go back to your compound without a fight?" She specifies suspiciously; this does _not_ feel real.

"Your release is sanctioned," the warrior says blandly. "The coat, if you please."

Sanctioned by _who exactly,_ Tōka wants to ask but doesn't quite dare. She hands the book to Chigi –who actually takes it– and is about to put the cat down when it leaps out of her arms all by itself, twining happily around her ankles instead.

Tōka unties the heavy protective coat –it could almost be armour all by itself– folds it and sets it down by her feet. "We leave, you don't follow?" She asks.

The Uchiha nods. "Fair."

The cat climbs up onto the folded coat, turns around twice and curls up as though to sleep. Tōka decides she's had enough Uchiha insanity for a _lifetime_ , takes her book back and turns on her kinsmen. "The medics will murder me if I do any more running on my barely-healed bones," she says bluntly. Also they _hurt,_ which is a poor sign.

"I'll carry you," Chigi says instantly.

"Hattōma, forward; straight back to the compound," Yagura says quietly before her hot-headed younger cousin can protest.

" _Madara's_ coat?" Chigi asks quietly once Tōka is clinging to his back; he didn't ask about the indigos she's wearing, which is a relief; she only wants to explain this _once_ , preferably to her parents as well as to Uncle Butsuma.

"Later," she promises quietly.

He nods, then they take off for home as fast as the three of them can run; the Uchiha thankfully do _not_ follow.

She's escaped, It still doesn't quite feel _real_.

* * *

Tōka takes everything back; this _has_ to be real, no illusion could _possibly_ capture the sheer _pigheadedness_ that is her uncle. Two months' absence have _not_ made the heart fonder, not by so much as a grain of rice. Less fond, truthfully; what she has overheard has made it clear that Tajima at least is willing to listen to and compromise with Izuna when she pushes, but nobody has ever been able to make her uncle change his mind.

She is stuck on her back in the medical hall until Ōka-ba is satisfied that her legs are battle-ready again, Yuta-ba is having to rescue her personal funds from the clan's main fund that they got assimilated into upon her 'death,' her mother is shaking down aunts and cousins for her old clothes and the weapons she wasn't wearing on the day of the abduction, but her armour and sword, the beautiful sword her father gave her for her sixteenth birthday, are still in Uchiha hands and vanishingly unlikely to ever be recovered.

Well, not recovered _soon_ at any rate; it's a good enough sword that it might well have ended up in the Uchiha clan armoury, so if she keeps an eye out for it she might eventually get it back off whoever it gets issued to.

None of that is really a _problem_ though; no, the _problem_ is her bile-bitter granite-hearted uncle, who she can _see_ had already written off Tobirama _before_ he came to interrogate her about her imprisonment. Her uncle, who doesn't _care_ that she's told him _three times_ that Tobirama _only_ agreed to marry Izuna –and he hadn't known it was _Izuna the Corpse Burner_ who is a woman despite the ladykiller reputation until Tōka told him, just 'Uchiha Tajima's daughter'– because Tōka was lying there broken on the ground and her cousin couldn't bear to condemn her to death. Her uncle, who doesn't _care_ that Tobirama's choice has removed Izuna from the field until next spring at the _earliest_ and means Tōka is _here and breathing_ , just that her little cousin being alive and well in Uchiha hands is a _threat_.

A threat, because of course he can't keep Izuna out of his mind with his chakra bound. A threat because his future children will be Uchiha and enemies of the clan; a _traitor_ because of _course_ Tobirama should have chosen death for the both of them.

Never mind that choosing death would have put Izuna right back on the battlefield with nobody to oppose her and killed _Tōka_ as well, leaving Hikaku free to carve his way through other kinsmen. How can her uncle be so _blind_ to the blatantly obvious?!

Tōka doesn't say _why_ Izuna wants Tobirama siring her children beyond the obvious of him being her equal on the battlefield; with her uncle so categorically opposed to peace, hearing that Izuna's endgame ploy is to ensure that once Clan Head, Hashirama is prepared to surrender near-unconditionally so as to avoid murdering his own nephews… well. Her uncle would not take it _well_. So she will not say any of that at all, and gloss over other things besides.

Instead she talks about the fuuinjutsu on Tobirama's back, Madara and Izuna's little brother with Tobirama's _exact_ face, about the Uchiha's imperial history, elevated rank and the privileges accorded them by the daimyo, about their evidently-comfortable financial situation –considering the genuinely _ridiculous_ amount of money Izuna has spent on kimono for Tobirama in the past month or so– and their relative self-sufficiency. She has seen weavers and dyers and farmers and smiths passing by while sitting out on the engawa of the Diplomatic Quarters, has smelled tanners and eaten far too much fish for the Uchiha not to breed them in ponds.

She also mentions the Inuzuka connection and the wedding gift of cows; that Uchiha consider opiates a poison is something for Ōka-ba's ears alone, being merely medical curiosity and not a tactical advantage.

She almost talks herself hoarse despite the water Ōka-ba keeps pressing on her; her father has come and gone _twice_ and Obaasan has firmly settled in the room's other chair by the time her uncle is satisfied with her report and leaves.

He does not say what he is going to do with all the information she has poured out, but Tōka does _not_ get the impression he is going to _use_ any of the political possibilities now available to him; no, he loathes the Uchiha too deeply for that.

"Truly kuge, Tōka-chan?" her grandmother asks worriedly.

"Izuna showed up several times in both deep purple and true murasaki," Tōka confirms, "and I don't think the legal guide was compiled purely for mine and Tobirama's benefit, not with how coherent it is, how many obscure characters it contains and Madara's easy admission that he memorised and copied it out age twelve." She pauses. "Also Izuna's behaviour has been _completely consistent_ with what it contains, as has the rest of the Uchiha clan, which seems to me improbable if they wrote it recently."

She can talk about the song of Uchiwa no Indra, the clan's founder, elevated to forth-rank dōjō kuge and wedded to a first-rank imperial princess, at a later date.

Her grandmother wrings the handkerchief in her hands. "My clan do not know," she says quietly. "If the Uzumaki had _known_ this, I don't think I'd be _here_ , Tōka-chan. To so brazenly defy noble privilege is a dangerous thing, granddaughter; the Senju may live yet, but only because the Uchiha are too proud to lower themselves to demanding that others enforce their privileges for them."

"Izuna isn't proud like that," Tōka replies instantly, "and Madara listens to her."

"I won't write to my brother, Tōka-chan," Obaasan says quietly, "but Mito-chan _will_ , once she hears. She's pregnant and with a child to think of, well. If Hashirama doesn't agree to go to Uzushio with her, she might well go alone."

"And not return," Tōka finishes, her heart aching for her idiot cousin.

"The Senju clan are strong, yes," Obaasan says warningly, "but we cannot fight the whole world, Tōka-chan. We _certainly_ cannot fight the Fire Daimyo, whose land it is we live on and to whom we pay tax. We are subject to his laws, and those laws demand that we respect the privilege of the nobility."

"More to the point," Ōka-ba says briskly, palm flat on Tōka's hip, "we cannot be _caught_ breaking the daimyo's laws. And the daimyo will of course take the word of one of the kuge over our own, even if that kuge is _also_ an 'untrustworthy shinobi'." She eyes Tōka sharply. "And what is it that you have very carefully _not_ told my brother, niece?"

Tōka feels tears well up. "Izuna doesn't hate us, _never_ has," she manages to say, "and she sees Tobi so _clearly_ for it. She, she _knew_ him! She _knew_ he'd choose death for himself, so she made sure I was there; she made sure I _stayed_ there because he'd go _mad_ locked up in a box by himself, unable to sense past its walls. She knows to _always_ tell him the truth, including when she can't tell him because it's a secret, she _listens_ to what he says and abides by his wishes." She scrubs angrily at her face with the sleeve of her nightshirt, old, much-mended and only here for her to wear because her mother had deliberately saved it. "He _loves_ her, Ōka-ba, even though he says he doesn't because he knows he _shouldn't_. He never stood a chance _not_ to, Izuna knows him too well and she's too much _like_ him for him _not_ to love her."

She can't forgive Izuna for that. For being a better warrior, for being high-ranking and respected in her clan and determined to do motherhood regardless of it affecting both that respect afforded her and her combat skills, those are all forgivable; but to be so very _like_ Tobirama in all the softest, most private ways that she _knows_ only she had ever seen before he was snatched from the battlefield and caged like a songbird? No, for that Tōka will hold a grudge _forever_. Against Izuna and against Madara too; the elder Uchiha sibling is too like Hashirama to hate, just as softhearted and full of hopeful dreams yet somehow more _reasonable_ and _likeable_ than her idiot cousin.

"Madara's incredibly awkward but very thoughtful and _adores_ his baby siblings," she says angrily, wishing she could _stop_ crying. "He showed up after Hashirama _trounced_ him, just to tell Tobirama his older brother wasn't dead! And to make us ama-cha, because he _promised!_ Like having a broken foot and barely enough chakra to walk in a straight line didn't _matter!"_

"Oh granddaughter," Obaasan gets up from her chair and sits on the mattress next to her; it's _odd_ being on a mattress again after two months on a futon. Then Tōka is being hugged and she can't keep her feelings in anymore.

"She wants Tobirama to sire her children because Hashirama won't touch them then, won't let our clan fight them," she sobs into Obaasan's red hair that is only just starting to fade into pink. "But she looks at him like he's the _whole world_ now, baachan! Like his every request is an opportunity and his unhappiness breaks her heart! How can she _do that_ when she's got him locked up in a _cage_ , how is _that_ –"

"Shh, granddaughter," Obaasan says firmly, rocking gently.

"And how can he love her _back_ when he's _completely_ at her mercy?!" Tōka continues regardless; she _can't_ keep all this inside anymore. "How can he smile at her so softly and tease her like he's known her all his life?!"

"They _have_ known each-other for a decade," Ōka-ba points out dryly, "and you learn a lot about a person when you fight them regularly."

"I know that! It's not _that_ kind of knowing! It's like he's _confident_ she won't hurt him, even though just _weeks_ ago they were both doing their best to _slaughter_ each-other! His chakra's entirely bound but he _still_ slept with her on his futon when she came in tired one time, even though she could lash out in her sleep entirely by _accident_ and kill him!"

"Love is a mystery, Tōka-chan," Obaasan says firmly, "and many women have found love in circumstances as challenging as Tobirama-kun's. You say Izuna wants the fighting to stop?"

"She wants our clans to stop fighting, yes," Tōka concedes grumpily, sniffing, "and she told Tobirama that if the Senju sued for peace honestly, she'd intercede on our behalf to her father and the daimyo, so that we'd get a proper peace and not just be ground underfoot. But the Uchiha clan do all _kinds_ of things other than shinobi work that we don't, so they'd really benefit from peace and we wouldn't." Which stings, honestly. They've been fighting the Uchiha for _centuries_ , to the point that their _entire clan_ is dedicated to war, while the Uchiha clearly see shinobi work as some combination of lucrative sideline and annoying necessity to keep the Senju at bay.

Maybe she should have noticed that before, given she's never seen Uchiha in less than a squad of five compared to Senju who take missions alone or in pairs and threes at most and only form battle-groups of five because they _need_ to in order to match the Uchiha. But she's not Tobirama; she'd never given much thought to _why_ the Uchiha do things in certain ways. Not until she got both legs broken and was trapped in a tiny house with her cousin, a stack of _cripplingly_ dull books he wanted her help with and far too much thinking time.

"Your uncle's not going to go for that," Ōka-ba says quietly.

"I _know_." That what hurts most; Uchiha Tajima is very clearly a _deeply_ unpleasant man, confirming what she's long-believed already, but _he_ is going along with Izuna's plan regardless; he can see the benefits it holds for the Uchiha and wishes to claim them. That her uncle on the other hand _can't_ see past his own hatred…

She can't do anything about it, trapped in bed as she is. This is both better and worse than being locked in the Diplomatic Quarters with Tobirama; she may be free of the threat of maiming here, but at least there she wasn't stuck watching her uncle damn their clan with his own arrogance and narrow-minded loathing.

Izuna's plan is an opportunity, but also a trap: if they do not take the offered hand, they will be _demonstrably_ violating the daimyo's laws. And Izuna's children will have peace regardless, because by the time they are grown there will be no Senju _left_ to feud with the Uchiha.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues directly from chapter 19.

Tobirama lets Izuna lead him into the stone room and gently remove all the complicated outer belts holding his elaborate outfit together, then take the various kimono and dōnuki layers off him and hang them over the rail to air. His head is spinning with all the revelations and implications of the past minutes so he just stands still and lets her work.

He feels abandoned. It is _stupid_ –he should be _pleased_ for Tōka, that she managed to get away intact and is potentially on her way home– but all he can think about is how empty the Diplomatic Quarters feel without her steady presence, chakra flavoured with spring earth and a hint of damp rock and her physical scent as familiar as Anija's. When Izuna leaves he's going to be all alone in here and the prospect is _crushing_.

Izuna undresses him right down to his loin-wrap, then puts a fresh white nagajuban on him –silk again– and kneels to remove his purple tabi and slip his bare feet back into his slippers. Then she gets out the wool kimono and the soft rapeseed green obi and gently dresses him for an informal day indoors. Even if he _could_ go elsewhere, right now he wouldn't.

It's soothing, to be cared for. The gentleness of concern untouched by pity or the assumption of control soothes the raw edges in his heart and helps him steady himself. Izuna brought Tōka here in the first place because she didn't want him to be alone; with her gone, Izuna will no doubt find another way to provide him with constant company. She takes her responsibilities to him seriously.

Izuna then starts taking things out of her sleeve seals, setting first the bag of sweets, then Tobirama's fan and little purple bag on top of the tansu. His eyes fix on the little bag –which contains not only the pot of lip-paint but a stained handkerchief carefully folded to ensure none of the stickiness transfers elsewhere– and he bursts out laughing.

"Treasure?"

Toibrama waves both hands at her, unable to get words out past the upwelling of black hilarity.

"You," he manages eventually, "you were so _composed_ , with your father, so calm and poised! And–" he dissolves into sniggering again, bent double.

Izuna patiently waits him out, chakra slightly bemused but warm with fondness.

"You have dust and dead grass in your hair," Tobirama finally manages to wheeze, "you _stink_ of sex, your collar's crooked, he _knows_ you spent half the morning flat on your back letting me _ravish_ you in _public_ and–" the laughter bubbles up again, "–you still –you _still_ – _still_ have lip-paint – _my_ lip-paint! On–"

His ribs can't take it; Tobirama collapses face-first to the floor and _groans_ with laughter, tears running down his face onto the stone.

Izuna lowers herself to the floor, kneeling next to him and rubbing his back, chakra rippling with reluctant amusement.

"How?" Tobirama manages to ask eventually, once the incorrigible urge to cackle has subsided a bit and he's managed to roll onto his back for eye-contact. His eye-liner is _definitely_ ruined, but who cares about that now. "How could you stand there, _knowing_ all that, and be so _composed?"_ If it had been him and _his_ father Tobirama would have been sharp and defensive, not calm and almost _bored_ as Izuna had been.

"Dignity comes from within," Izuna says lightly, smiling as she smoothes a loose strand of hair back from his face. "I am no less Amaterasu Head when naked and freshly debauched than I am in my finest kimono or my armour."

Tobirama's terrible, horrible brain _instantly_ conjures up the image of Izuna, naked and sweaty with a fresh bite-mark just above the swell of her breast _,_ his seed _dripping_ down her inner thighs, standing in the genkan with her fists on her hips and raising an unimpressed eyebrow at her father outside; he instantly dissolves back into slightly horrified laughter.

Izuna slides a conjured cushion under his head so he doesn't bruise himself on the stone floor, dabbing a clean handkerchief at his face so the ruined cosmetics don't stain his collar.

"You," Tobirama finally manages to gasp, "are a _delight_ , wife."

She smiles down at him, all fond warmth. "Think you can stand for long enough to wash your face, Treasure?"

Tobirama chuckles helplessly. "Not really," he admits wryly, "Though I do _want_ to wash my face. I might fall over if I try to do that unassisted, however." It's been a _long time_ since he's laughed like this and he feels wobbly. Also rather sore; his ribs _ache_.

"I can fix that," Izuna says, that familiar raw flicker flashing though her chakra again as she heaves him up into her arms and carries him into the washroom, settling him down on the thick back edge of the sink before running the tap and soaping up a warm flannel for him.

The hot water and feel of a clean face do help him settle, but with settling comes the reminder of Tōka's absence. Not just on the engawa out of sensing range, but _gone_. Back to the Senju, with word of his circumstances. Hopefully.

"So what do you want to do now?" Izuna asks him; Tobirama eyes her over the flannel.

"I seem to recall promising you sex."

Izuna shrugs. "That was before."

Before. Before Tōka took off. Before he realised that once Izuna leaves the Diplomatic Quarters he will be _alone_.

He's never minded being on his own before, but then again, was he ever _truly_ alone when he could sense the comings and goings of the clan around him? It certainly wasn't like _this_.

He could distract himself with sex, but it _would_ be a distraction and Izuna would likely notice it wasn't genuinely what he wanted to be doing.

"I'd like to wash you," he admits quietly, "and just, lie down with you for a bit. Share the sweets and rest."

"That sounds lovely," Izuna says, then she crinkles her eyes at him. "I'm sure you'll be happy to fuck me witless some other day."

Tobirama snorts and throws the flannel at her; she catches it easily and rinses it under the tap, then hangs it over the edge of the sink before offering him a dry towel.

"Shall I undress in the stone room, then come back?"

Tobirama finishes drying off his face and eyes her thoughtfully. "I'd like to undress you, if you don't mind." He pauses. "Also, I'd like an explanation of _why_ you have a full men's formal outfit in murasaki purple." It does not seem the kind of thing Tajima would consider necessary, especially when Izuna did say she hasn't officially been to court since she was twelve. Why would she _need_ such a costly outfit, if not for court?

"It's not that complicated," Izuna tells him after they adjourn back to the stone room and Tobirama is draping her haori over the top of the tansu. "I was experimenting with my hiden jutsu for preventing dyes from sun-fading and produced a few short murasaki bolts in different silk weights and weaves –I didn't do the weaving myself of course, a clanswomen was paid for that– but then I needed to prove the results _were_ light-resistant, so I made them up into an outfit to fit Madara –he was shorter then– and hung it on a shaped training target which I then set out in the garden of the Clan Hall on those days when it wasn't raining. I kept some of the silk back of course, for comparisons."

"That's very clever," Tobirama says as he kneels so she can step out of her hakama.

"Thanks. Anyway, I started the sun-testing at the end of the July of that year and by September even my father had to concede that I'd succeeded." Tobirama shakes out the hakama and drapes those over the tansu as well, then turns to remove her obi. "Then the ceasefire happened, so Madara ended up wearing these for his trip to the capital to see the daimyo with our Lord-Father."

Tobirama pauses, stiff obi in hand. "Madara was wearing _this_ for the daimyo's son's Shichi-Go-San?"

Izuna nods. "Yes, he was."

 _Tobirama's_ father had apparently come back from the capital _furious_ , but no-one had never explained _why_. Well, now Tobirama _knows_ why. "I take it that was partly a marketing ploy? To secure the daimyo's wife's interest in the new silk-dyeing technique?" At least that's what he assumes it is, and it's not like Izuna will correct him if he's wrong.

Izuna nods, her slight smile distinctly smug. "My Lord-Father is a most practical man," she says lightly, "so once he had proof of concept and the assurance of profitability, he was keen to exploit it."

So _Tobirama's_ father had seen his enemy's son wearing clothing worth a daimyo's ransom, almost insultingly plain for the sheer cost involved, and the entire court had been reminded that the Uchiha are kuge and entitled to wear murasaki. Plus his father having to hear of how whichever lord or minister was responsible for the daimyo's wife's wardrobe had set up a meeting with Tajima to discuss business.

No wonder he was _still_ furious when Tobirama returned from Uzushio in the spring. And no wonder Hashirama hadn't been any help in determining _why;_ the details will have soared over Anija's head entirely. He wouldn't have realised the value or significance of the colour of Madara's clothing.

He hangs the kimono up and then the short nagajuban as well, leaving Izuna in her tabi and loin-wrap.

 _Stained_ loin-wrap; Tobirama kneels to slide her tabi off her feet. Seeing her like this is making him feel like maybe he might be in the mood for _something_ , in a little while.

He's just set the tabi on the tansu and turned back to face her when there's a loud knock at the door; Tobirama freezes, reminded of Tajima's promise to send word once the double squad sent after Tōka gets back.

A double squad is _too many_ for a simple border patrol to deal with, and it is _very_ likely that his father's response to Hashirama's dogged insistence that Madara wouldn't lie to him over Tobirama being alive was to send Anija on a mission somewhere a good way off, which he is unlikely to have returned from just yet. His father would sooner send his eldest away for as long as possible than have to deal with Anija pestering everybody and refusing to see reason.

Izuna just sighs, leans forwards to snatch _Tobirama's_ purple nagajuban off the rail behind him and cursorily wrap it around herself before heading towards the genkan. Realising that his wife is about to answer the door in _his under-kimono_ , Tobirama lurches into movement and hurries after her.

He loiters in the hallway, well out of sight when Izuna pulls the door open.

There's a sharp scuff of sandal of stone, a drawn-in breath and then a hasty, "General! The Outguard Head sent me to inform you that the Fatal Flower reached a Senju border patrol before she could be intercepted, and not wanting to reignite hostilities given the current attempts to reconcile our clans, Tsuyoshi-san chose to demand only the return of the Madara-sama's coat."

Tobirama feels his knees wobble and leans heavily against a nearby pillar; his cousin is alive and _safe_.

There's a pause in which Izuna might have responded, but if she _is_ doing so it's with signs or possibly eye-contact genjutsu; Outguard secrets he is not allowed to overhear, no doubt. Tobirama lets that small hurt go and focuses on the _relief_ of knowing that Tōka is _home_ , that her parents will even now be embracing her and crying with joy and wonder at having her restored to them when she was believed dead.

A bittersweet relief, but still something to be thankful for.

Wait, she stole the _coat?_ As a disguise most likely, not realising that Izuna had been aware of her escape from the moment she descended from the engawa. Rather more subtle an alarm system than Tobirama was expecting, honestly, but it's likely built into the frame of the building.

The front door closes and Izuna steps up into the hallway, purple silk crepe held vaguely closed over her body with one arm, the garment visibly intended for somebody with broader shoulders than her.

"Tobirama?"

"I'm fine," he insists. He is. It's just been a day of a great many very _intense_ emotional changes; it's normal to need time to settle after that.

She nods, accepting his statement if perhaps not believing it. "Treasure, would you object to my staying the night with you? I do _not_ want to go home to my father's annoyance and my little brother's misery."

So she _does_ know it was Saburō who was less than diligent in keeping secrets; she doesn't seem too bothered by it though. She is _also_ offering him comfort, but doing so in a way he can refuse if he so chooses; if he does she will no doubt find her way to her cousin's house or some other relative.

But he _would_ like her to stay. To fall asleep with her in his arms, to not be alone in his elegant cage after his cousin's unannounced departure. And he is not so foolish as to refuse things he _wants_ simply because the one offering does so out of concern. Izuna is married to him; she is allowed to worry, entitled even.

"I would like you to stay," he admits. "May I bathe you now?" He has a vague idea taking shape of what he might like to do afterwards, but there's no rush.

Izuna's smile returns. "Of course you may, Tobirama."

Tobirama smiles back as he straightens up again. "After all," he adds casually, "I put a lot of time and effort into reducing you to a sticky, incoherent mess, and would rather like to admire my handiwork before I clean it up."

"So wicked," Izuna says wryly. "Are you going to fetch a lantern, to better illuminate your efforts?"

Tobirama smirks. "I think I might. You do look _very_ fine when seated on top of the sink displaying your body for my hands."

"You never used to crack such dirty jokes; I am evidently a corrupting influence," Izuna says with a grin as she saunters past him towards the stone room.

"I couldn't let you keep the field advantage forever!" Tobirama calls after her, then goes to fetch a sun lantern and a set of linen tasuki. It wouldn't do to get his sleeves wet while he is bathing his wife.

* * *

The morning after the Banner Festival Tobirama wakes to find a mother cat moving a litter of tiny kittens into the bed between him and a softly amused Izuna watching it happen; he ends up sacrificing the sheet and a blanket to make a nest in the corner of the room beside the low, flimsy cupboard so the futon can be rolled up. The completely white cat eyes Tobirama imperiously once the move is complete, then vanishes down the hole in the floor she'd come in through –the removable panel under which are anchored the manacles that Tōka had been restrained with during her first medical treatment– leaving her kittens in his care.

Izuna returns from her wash, kneels down to wrap her arms around him from behind and kiss his neck under his ear. "There are a few things I should check on; are the kittens company enough or should I send for someone else as well?" She asks quietly.

Tobirama doesn't look up from the half-dozen tiny fuzzy bodies snuggled in the lopsided nest of soiled sheets and soft blankets; they don't even have their _eyes_ open yet. "The kittens are good company," he assures her equally quietly, "and their mother will return soon." It's a warm feeling, to be trusted with such tiny, vulnerable creatures while their mother goes to eat her own fill.

Izuna squeezes him gently, then leaves. When she returns with breakfast he is still in his sleeping yukata, because rather than go and wash he just sat in the fusuma room, watching over the tiny kittens as they twitched and squeaked in their sleep.

* * *

The following morning Izuna somehow extends the boundaries of the fuuinjutsu keeping him in the Diplomatic Quarters as far as the garden fence, and Tobirama spends the entire morning wearing indigo for the first time in _weeks_ while lying sprawled on the grass and moss amongst the bushes, shifting around a little to keep his face in the shade so he doesn't get sunburnt; he can't shield himself with chakra at the moment after all. The mother cat now inhabiting the Diplomatic Quarters with him loads her kittens onto his chest the moment she notices him purring, then climbs onto his stomach and purrs back at him.

It's a supremely comfortable way to pass the time, for all that the fence has become a hard boundary he can't sense past; when Izuna arrives with lunch she joins him in the garden with rice balls and the last of the leftover sweets from the festival and they talk about the different livestock the Senju and Uchiha keep. Tobirama feels Senju chickens are rather dull compared to Uchiha ones, but it turns out Uchiha do not keep geese and he reduces Izuna to helpless giggling with stories of Hashirama being assaulted by large white waterfowl.

Wild animals –and actually animals generally– really do _not_ like Anija, which neatly counterbalances how good he is with trees and shrubs. Well, _most_ trees and shrubs.

The wisteria story also makes Izuna laugh, and she proves very amenable to wrestling with him for the pure fun of it, keeping her chakra tamped right down to level the playing field and rubbing his face in the moss anyway. Tobirama gets even with her by tumbling her into a peony bush, leaving her covered in pink petals that cling to her hair even after a few more rolls across the grass.

It takes him _some time_ , but he does finally manage to use his superior weight against her and pin her under him. She _could_ get out if she used chakra, of course, but that would be _cheating_.

"I win!" He announces cheerfully, legs tightly tangling hers so she can't kick and holding her wrists under her spine, head twisted at a slightly awkward angle so she can't head-butt him again. It's been a while since he won at wrestling; Hashirama is _ridiculously_ strong, Tōka fights dirty even when she doesn't need to, and most of his other cousins won't wrestle with him at all because they hate losing.

Izuna meanwhile doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, making one last attempt to push him off then going limp. "So what are you going to do now, oh victorious one?" She teases.

Tobirama makes a show of thinking about it, taking care not to let his grip on her slacken. He's had Tōka turn the tables on him after the fight was technically over before now. "I," he decides, "am going to have a nice nap, right here. Because you are very comfortable to lie on." It's not _entirely_ true –Izuna has a lot of pointy bones and some of them can get uncomfortable after a while– but it's funny and he wants to.

"Oh I am, am I?" Izuna asks, tone all amusement. However she doesn't try to gain the upper hand as Tobirama releases his hold and pointedly makes himself comfortable on top of her, laying his head on her breasts and resting his hands against her shoulders.

"Very much so," Tobirama lies blatantly, shifting slightly so her hip isn't digging into his stomach and then letting his muscles go slack so his entire weight bears down on her.

Sure enough, she finally reaches for her chakra to reinforce herself; dawn sunshine on dew mixed with anise teases his senses. The star anise is something he associates with death, it being the main incense the Senju use in their clan shrine, but after two months with it lingering all around him as he spends time with Izuna that association is changing a little.

Death, yes –that will never fade– but also change. And change can be good.

He purrs, enjoying how it makes Izuna shift her chakra to accommodate the vibrations, her chakra rumbling an echo of the purr back at him as her breathing slows further and she idly unties his hair and rubs little circles on his scalp with her fingertips.

Sunlight on his back, Izuna's early morning chakra a warm hum under him and her gentle hands stroking through his hair, with moss and other grassy stains smeared across his face and clothing, Tobirama falls asleep.

* * *

When he wakes again the sun is rather lower in the sky and he is sprawled across Izuna's lap, not her torso; he also has both arms wrapped tightly around her waist and his face buried in her abdomen, but details. He knows he moves in his sleep. _Her_ hands are still caressing his scalp and now also his upper back, so he has no complaints whatsoever.

She's also talking to someone, so he keeps his breathing slow and his body limp so he can listen:

"–ure that's a good idea, cousin?"

Izuna's fingers rock gently over the tendons behind Tobirama's ears, turning the sleepy rumble in his chest into fully-fledged purr.

"I can only play the game set in front of me Hiku; my father's choices reduced my options quite significantly. Tōka's escape reopens some of those, but not all of them."

There's a scuff, as of a shifted sandal. "Cousin," Hikaku says quietly, "Did you _intend_..?" He trails off meaningfully.

"It was not the path I would have _preferred_ for opening dialogue with the Senju," Izuna says lightly, one hand still rubbing circles behind Tobirama's ear as the other slides comfortingly up and down his spine, "and I certainly did not _choose_ or _condone_ it, but it will serve. Butsuma may be truly as inflexible as he presents himself as, but there is more to a clan than a single man, even when that man leads it."

"Careful, cousin," Hikaku says, concern underpinning humour.

"You already know my feelings on leadership and consent."

"I do, and it worries me that there is considerable precedent in our legal code upholding your perspective."

"Worried at what I might do, or what might be done to me for bringing such to light?"

"Yes, cousin."

Izuna chuckles, wry amusement bubbling in her chakra. "I'm not one for starting fights, Hiku."

"I am now _even more_ concerned, I-nee," the other Uchiha says softly, humour still present but the concern rising to the forefront, "because those you set yourself against never seem to be _aware_ that their behaviour qualifies as 'starting a fight' until you fall upon them like Susano-o's fist and _end_ them."

"Says the man standing behind me with a hand on his sword, poised to grant a swift end to those still breathing."

"Of course; that is where the best view is."

The both chuckle; Izuna's fingers shift to the top of Tobirama's head.

"I may never have proper vengeance for the loss of my mother and sister," Hikaku says softly, "but I will accept the death of the feud that persuaded Tajima-sama that my father's execution was _expedient_ as vengeance enough."

"But should my father also die, you will turn to Madara-nii without so much as a tear shed."

"I think only you and your brothers would weep at losing him, I-nee."

"And Ohabari-oba; she is his sister."

"And Ohabari-oba," Hikaku echoes. There is a pause. "Tōka's return to her kin _has_ cleaved open those pathways you were hoping for, cousin. But you should pay more attention closer to home for the time being; it has also created weaknesses here, which you should address."

"Oh my ever-faithful watchman, I would struggle without you," Izuna says gently, chakra deeply fond. "Thank you, cousin; where should I go first?"

"Take a _proper_ walk with your concubine tomorrow; they'll come to you."

Izuna hums, fingers sliding down to draw back the curls shielding Tobirama's face from the late afternoon sky. "What do you think, Treasure? Want to come for a walk with me around the compound tomorrow?"

Seeing as Izuna at least was fully aware of his eavesdropping, Tobirama stops purring, lets go of her waist and levers himself up into a sitting position, his knees resting against her hip. "In visiting kimono, work-wear or what?"

Izuna hums, reaching out to catch his face and gently tug him forwards until his forehead is resting on her shoulder, putting his scalp back in range of her soothing caresses. "Everyday kimono I think; a casual day out for little errands and introducing you to a few more kinsmen. You could catch your own fish and I could help you cook them."

"A casual walk and fresh fish; I am convinced," Tobirama drawls against her chest, struggling not to melt completely into her touch again. "Do I get my own sandals back?" He's not seen them once since the battlefield.

"That could easily be arranged," Izuna agrees, gentle teasing in her tone.

"Sandals and sword were the only things _worth_ keeping," Hikaku mutters. Tobirama would be insulted except he's far too comfortable right now; he can be offended later.

"No insulting a kinsman's armour unless you're offering to replace it, cousin," Izuna says mildly.

"If he ever ends up in the field as an Uchiha you _will_ dress him in Madara's half-armour before subjecting him to that unwieldy scrap-pile, cousin, or I will accuse you of wilfully endangering his life."

"Hey," Tobirama says, offense levels rising high enough to compete with his blissful lassitude.

"It covers barely half of what mine does, weighs twice as much and has so many weak points I'm always spoilt for choice," the Deathblow says bluntly, comprehensively condemning Tobirama's armour quality and that of every other Senju. "Not that we _mind_ –an enemy's weakness is to our benefit– but better-quality armour would last longer and save lives."

"It's expensive," Tobirama says, repeating his father's words, "and our medics can heal everyone who gets home alive."

Izuna's grip on his scalp tightens briefly. "Forgive me if I go too far here, Treasure," she says softly, ire audible, "but a leader who believes injury and trauma to his kin are _preferable_ to spending money on their protection is _not_ a man who should have power over others."

Tobirama can't contest her point. Not when it's framed from that angle. "He is my _father_ ," he says tensely.

Izuna sags perceptibly. "I know, Treasure, I know." She kisses the top of his head. "One must honour one's parents."

Tobirama feels himself settle again; she understands it's not about _liking_ his father's choices. The Leopards on the other hand _don't_ understand why he hasn't committed patricide yet. It is a consistent point of contention that is probably never going to be resolved, purely because the human mindset is not the leopard one.

"Well if you are going to publically molest your concubine, cousin, I think I shall depart," Hikaku says dryly, voice a little louder than before. "I will see you both tomorrow, no doubt."

Tobirama does not think a chaste kiss to the top of his head counts as public molestation and turns his head just far enough to eyeball the younger Uchiha through his loose curls. Hikaku notices and briefly makes eye contact:

"From this angle, spouse of my cousin, with her hands in your hair? It's _very_ suggestive."

Tobirama thinks about it and concedes. "Perhaps."

"I shall therefore take myself off home to my wife, so you can enjoy each-other without an audience," Hikaku concludes, then turns and walks away.

Izuna chuckles. "Would you _like_ to be enjoyed in the garden, Tobirama?" She asks, grin audible.

"Only if you can _ensure_ nobody else can see or hear us." It's one thing to flaunt the liberties Izuna allows him when impeccably dressed and knowing roughly who is watching, quite another in a semi-private setting where they are both casually dressed and much more of his true self is visible.

"I can fix that," Izuna promises, that raw-sharp-joy flash dancing through her chakra again as she rests her chin on the top of his head. "Give me a moment, Treasure."

Tobirama obligingly doesn't move or speak as her hands in his hair still, then complex shaped chakra ripples out from her like a wave, splashing against the inside of the barriers at the fence-line –briefly illuminating the fortress-like walls with their incomprehensibly twisting seals– and then the outside world is muffled and smeary as though through clouded glass.

He lets himself flop dramatically onto his back next to her legs, arms spread out on either side of him. "I am yours for the enjoying."

Izuna grins, shifting forwards to sit over his thighs; she still has a couple of peony petals caught in her hair. "Thank you," she says teasingly, reaching down to untie both his shirt and undershirt, "I shall savour the experience."

That sounds _exceptionally_ pleasant.

* * *

This, Tobirama realises dazedly, entire body fever-hot and shaking as he gasps frantically, was a _bad idea_. Should _not_ have told Izuna she could 'take her time.'

Her hands lightly grip his wrists but no _control_ to push her off right now. Doesn't _want_ to either, wants her to _move_ , to–

–her teeth scrape his throat, teasing; his hips buck without conscious thought but she's got him _pinned_ –

Eyes rolled right back inside his head, Tobirama _mewls_.

Izuna pauses, muscles stiffening and _tightening_ as she holds herself in place; Tobirama gasps like a landed fish, another desperate mewl dragging itself from his raw throat as his feet scrabble aimlessly for purchase against the soft turf.

"Too much?" she asks, her breath sending goosebumps down his neck, right down his spine and making him shudder convulsively.

" _Please,"_ he manages to beg blindly, dignity discarded, caution stripped away to leave nothing but frantic, urgent _want_. "Please, please please _please_ –"

She shifts over him and the heavy slide of skin-to-skin is _almost_ too much. Almost but not _quite_.

"What do you want, Tobirama? Tell me and I'll give it to you." The whispered promise against his ear –hotly caressing already _desperately_ sensitive skin– makes him buck mindlessly under her again, panting harshly; it's _still_ not enough, he _needs_ –

" _Take. Me_." He rasps, barely able to force the words up his tight throat as his eyelids flutter, _drowning_ in the scent of her body, her _pleasure_ at his–

"As you wish," she murmurs, and his senses are _consumed_ by slick, _electrifying_ friction, rocking him from ankle to teeth, fast and hard and–

Tobirama _screams_.

* * *

Opening his eyes to pre-dawn gloom, the cat in her corner purring over her kittens and the distant sound of night birds drifting in through the transom panels above the fusuma, Tobirama lets his gaze drop to Izuna –sprawled on her face beside him– and tries to string the previous day together.

Up to Hikaku leaving he remembers clearly –bar the obvious gap where he slept a bit over an hour away– but after that…

He shudders, and it's not in fear or horror. Part of him is morbidly curious where Izuna got the idea for _that_ from, but the rest can't decide if he wants to make her promise never, ever to do it again… or to promise that she _will_. That she will drag him back up to the teetering edge of pleasure and _hold_ him there until his mind has been emptied of everything except frantic desire.

The rest of the evening is disjointed and fuzzy in his mind; he remembers physical comfort, being cradled in strong arms and dawn-sweet chakra, being washed gently and slowly with warm water and gentle hands untangling his hair. He remembers cringing from the texture of his sleeping yukata, and Izuna soothing him with kisses and soft hands before wrapping him in the shrimp kimono, the cool glide of the silk lining kind to his over-sensitive skin.

He's still wearing it, crumpled and doubtless sweat-stained from such abuse but seductively comfortable against his still-tender flesh.

Dinner he remembers a little more clearly –mushroom soba– but after that all he has is a vague recollection of being held and Izuna singing, words passing him by but voice sweetly tuneful. Was that in the tatami room, or here in the fusuma room? He can't remember.

He's never found his memory so full of holes, or cared so little for the lack of clear details. He remembers feeling _safe_ , and that almost hurts more than the incoherence of those lost hours.

He was helpless, _truly_ helpless after she finished with him in the garden; so overstimulated he was not even able to think coherently. And what he _does_ remember insists Izuna was no less gentle and patient with him than she ever is; more so even, with not the faintest hint of impatience.

Tobirama is not often ill, but vague memories of teenage fever delirium are deeply entangled with Hashirama's cloying concern, his aunts' brisk care and Tōka's fear, none of which really _helped_ his already-unbalanced state of mind. Izuna… _was_ concerned by his incoherence yesterday evening, he's fairly sure, but she wasn't pushy or demanding and she wasn't afraid. She wasn't frustrated by his refusal to wear the sleeping yukata or whatever nonsense he was talking –and he is sinkingly certain he _was_ talking nonsense at some point– letting it roll over her and picking out the relevant details.

He feels a little sensitive still, but beyond that… he feels _rested_. His mind is quiet, his muscles are loose, he is settled in his skin; thinking's almost an effort because he's _comfortable_.

So very comfortable, warm silk caressing his skin and Izuna naked in the bed beside him. Tobirama ponders this situation for several long, syrup-slow minutes, then fumbles for the soft obi tying his kimono closed.

Losing the glide of silk across his body is a wrench, but Izuna's skin and scent are compensation enough and her unconscious welcoming of his touch –relaxing under his weight and pressing his hand against her chest– silences the vague unease of his increased awareness of yesterday's events.

Sleep drags him back under swiftly enough.

* * *

After breakfast Tobirama finds himself unsure of what to wear. Not a situation he _ever_ thought he'd find himself in a mere three months ago, but it _is_ an important decision. It's a warm day –if rather overcast– and he wants mobility, so just one dōnuki layer; also it's an _informal_ walk around, so he can't be dressed too finely.

That limits his choices to the willow kimono, the green wave-print, the pink shrimp-print and the red-orange and yellow triangle-print.

After some thought Tobirama decides that the shrimp-print should go in the laundry after wearing it to sleep in, so it is not actually an option; also the winged sleeves on the triangle-print kimono are not that much longer than is usual for men, which he prefers for casual wear.

The triangle-print kimono also goes well with his stiff obi, so he will be dressed less ambiguously. While he does not _object_ to the wide obi and more deeply-winged sleeves in the context of his role as Izuna's concubine and the opportunities they provide him in the ongoing power struggle between them, if he is being seen as _himself_ he would prefer to dress accordingly.

Yes, he _does_ like the green kimono, very much, but he is aware that when wearing it he looks _very_ Hatake, which is not who he is. So for this first 'casual' walk around the Uchiha compound he will wear the triangle-print.

He can do the standard Uchiha topknot easily now and Izuna has obligingly changed the collar on his padded dōnuki to a rich chestnut red-brown with cream flecks, so he will look aesthetic when fully dressed. He doesn't bother with tabi; he's getting his battle sandals, so there's no point.

When he arrives in the engawa his sandals are waiting for him and Izuna is wearing the tea-brown lattice-print silk kimono with the indigo highlights, this time with the plain red half-width obi and her own battle sandals, but has done up her hair in a more feminine twist held in place by a black lacquered hairpin.

"My Lord-Wife looks very lovely," he says, stepping close for a kiss after putting his sandals on.

Izuna turns to him like a flower towards the sun, her mouth soft and welcoming. "You also look very fine, Treasure," she murmurs as he draws back a little.

Tobirama leans in again for another kiss, barely a teasing touch of lips, and twines his fingers with hers. "Lead on then, Lord-Wife."

Izuna eyes him knowingly, but does lead him out the front door and then the front gate as well, into the wider world. Then she draws a rigid fan from the general vicinity of one winged sleeve and half-hides her face behind it, fluttering her eyelashes at him with blatant coyness. "So where to first, Treasure?"

Tobirama smirks and decides to tease back. "Well, there was a _very_ nice persimmon orchard I enjoyed eating in a few days ago."

"Oh my!" Izuna flutters the fan in front of her face. "So _forward!"_

"My Lord-Wife _asked_ what I would like to do first," he points out wickedly.

Izuna bumps her shoulder against his. "You're terrible," she says cheerfully. "How about we walk along the river?"

The river, which is the border of Uchiha territory. The river, which he knows continues south and then curves west, marking the mid-point between the Uchiha and Senju compounds.

The river, which he knows _very well_ he will be able to neither command nor jump into. He _misses_ his chakra, which the feel of river-water on his skin might somewhat compensate for, but to walk so _close_ to freedom and have it be entirely beyond his reach… no. Not today.

"Another day perhaps," he decides. "Can we walk under trees today?"

"Of course; we'll go around the outer edge beyond the farms," Izuna agrees easily, picking a direction. Tobirama ambles alongside her, looking around more obviously this time. It's much less busy than the Banner Festival was, so he can focus less on not running into people and more on his surroundings.

"So how did acquiring liquor-less plum go?" He asks as they wander along the edge of a field full of tall, waving stems of a lush but unfamiliar plant.

Izuna catches his other hand and turns to face him, walking backwards with a big grin on her face. "Success! I have secured _two_ casks for my own enjoyment, courtesy of a few foolhardy cousins who wish to try _fortified_ umeshu. I can get some for you to try later if you like."

Tobirama tugs lightly on her arms to pull her into arm's reach and lightly kisses her cheek. "I'd be delighted to," he says as she lets go of his right hand and settles at his left side.

It's a fine day, and even with the tension of the near-certainty of being approached by various Uchiha wanting reassurance regarding Tōka's escape Tobirama is happy to be outside and wearing his own sandals again.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The murder of children is discussed in the this chapter, which sadly falls under 'canon-typical violence' but I feel deserves an extra mention.

The first people to hail Izuna are a pair of field-workers singing a song as they work their way through a field containing a mix of beans and other plants. It's a call-and-reply song, one worker singing a question and the other an answer, and is probably about what can be planted or harvested and when, going by the lines he caught before they saw Izuna and interrupted themselves to wave her over.

Tobirama lets himself be led by the hand down the field margin, grateful for his sturdy leather sandals and looking around curiously. The Uchiha seem to grow a tremendous _variety_ of things, quite unlike the well-managed rice fields and tidy herb gardens of the Senju's vassals, and while he's probably eaten most of these things he's never seen them growing before. Well, not to _recognise_ them; he's never had to work in the vassals' rice fields and vegetable gardens as punishment. His father always had other work for him.

"Izuna-bi!"

"Nyū, Toyoni; how're the children?" Izuna asks easily, leaning in to hug the nearer clansman. Now they're closer Tobirama can sense sharp, fiery and well-developed chakra reserves on both the strangers and the further one has tattoos on their cheekbones as well; they're also both visibly injured, the nearer one with an arm strapped to their chest and the further one limps ever so slightly. That the Uchiha might use injured warriors as temporary field workers makes sense, given how basic the medical care they have access to is; being good at repairing soft tissue damage will be of very little help with broken bones.

"Chiroro-kun's walking, Izuna-bi," the nearer Uchiha –young, tall and angular– says proudly, the image of a delighted father; Tobirama is abruptly reminded of Chigi and his pride in his children.

"That's wonderful, Toyoni; congratulations! And your youngest, Nyū?"

"Ruchishi-kun's babbling like the walls would fall in if he stopped, Izuna-bi," the other Uchiha –who is stocky and has that faintly unsettling ageless look Uchiha seem to acquire in their mid-twenties and only lose somewhere after reaching sixty, if Azumaya-ba in any indication– drawls comfortably, "and Tomamu-kun and Midori-chan are cheerfully teaching him all manner of words." They stretch, shifting how the indigo work-wear hangs over their body to reveal a distinctly feminine figure. Men do not have heavy breasts pressing through their shirts when the fabric is pulled taut.

"And Azami's children?" Izuna asks as Tobirama realises that it's entirely possible that _most_ Uchiha warriors with tattoos are women. That's… a _lot_ more women warriors than he had realised; the Senju only have a handful or so. Who generally retire upon marrying.

Nyū sighs, eyes darting to Tobirama then very firmly back to Izuna. "They're coping. My father-in-law's picked up Koma-kun as an apprentice since my Yakushi's dead and Asahi's experienced enough to do some things unsupervised, but with Sefuri-chan dying in the autumn and now their mother in the early spring, the other three are really struggling. The ceasefire's helping –gives those of us still alive time to do more than sleep, eat and work– but Sahoro-kun's probably going to be joining the Outguard next spring, and Naka-Scallion will be following him as soon as she's fourteen too."

"If the current situation unfolds as planned –or even only half to plan– then we won't need the numbers," Izuna says neutrally. "I know my Lord-Father prefers not to let the Outguard get too large, as it impedes his ability to personally ensure everyone is performing to the very best of their ability."

"He's more likely to retire some of the senior warriors to instruct this year's batch, to ensure continuity," Nyū counters, but there's hope in her posture and chakra. Tobirama wonders again –more painfully this time– just how _many_ Uchiha die every year. If they regularly have _batches_ of new recruits yet the overall numbers in their Outguard do not significantly _change_ …

"If we do get a formal arrangement of some kind, Madara and I intend to suggest to our Lord-Father that recruit training be lengthened and enhanced," Izuna says earnestly, fingers digging slightly into Tobirama's hand. "We lose more of the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds than anyone else; keeping them in training for an extra year would _dramatically_ reduce the number of mission deaths."

Nyū shakes her head. "You don't need to tell me that, Izuna-bi; I've already lost a niece and a nephew and I know Tsukimi-nee worries about Kagami-kun following her older brother. The ceasefire's helped there, at least; she's getting extra training, seeing as we're not constantly running from one battlefield to the next."

Izuna nods. "And your injuries?"

"Off bed-rest, thank all the kami!" Nyū says, gesturing extravagantly as both other Uchiha chuckle. "Yori-san says my bones are in good order, so I might get back on active duty by the autumn."

"A full season of caterpillar-hunting and bird-scaring, hm?" Izuna teases.

"At least it's _useful;_ I almost went _mad_ , stuck in a bed and having to be looked after by Ena-chan. Yes, Asahi's bride-to-be is a lovely young woman, but I have a five-year-old, an almost-four-year-old and a two-year-old; how am I supposed to just _lie in bed_ while they all get into trouble within earshot?!"

"I thought Sahoro-kun and Naka-Scallion were babysitting for you?"

"Some of the time, yes," Nyū concedes, "but not _always_."

"Well you're up again now and putting the fear of Mother into your bratlings," Toyoni says with a grin; Nyū swats his good shoulder with a playful glare.

"And how about you, Toyoni?" Izuna asks, waving her free hand in a gesture that encompasses the strapped-up arm.

"Well that asshole Hoshigaki didn't _quite_ manage to rip my arm off," the man says with a wry grin, "and Yori-san thinks she's reattached everything properly, but it all needs a few days to settle before I'm allowed to move it again so she can find out if she's right." His eyes slide over to Tobirama and he grins. "Never arm-wrestle a Hoshigaki; they're sore losers."

Izuna and Nyū both burst out laughing; Tobirama manages to join in and chuckle. He suspects no arm-wrestling was involved at all, but since it's been turned into a joke then the offending Hoshigaki is probably dead. Of the two warriors in front of him, Nyū looks like the one with half a chance of winning an arm-wrestling contest with a Hoshigaki; on anybody but an Uchiha, Tobirama would call Toyoni's prominent cheekbones and thin wrists a sign of starvation. Nyū on the other hand is visibly muscled on her exposed forearms in the manner of civilian smiths, testament to hard work done without chakra enhancement.

"Speaking of, we need to get back to work," Nyū says, poking Toyoni in the ribs. "Come on kōhai, we've slacked off enough." The two injured warriors bow briefly before heading back into the bean field.

"Enjoy your morning!" Izuna calls after them as they start singing again, then turns to Tobirama:

"Well, back to the road and on to the trees."

Tobirama keeps his mouth shut until they are back on the road and hopefully out of earshot of the once-more-singing Uchiha:

"Senju women who are warriors retire when they marry."

Izuna shrugs. "Nyū-ba _was_ retired. But then her husband took a tree through the ribcage last spring, when her youngest was almost weaned, so she got herself back into fighting shape. Her parents are long dead, as are her brothers and brothers-in-law, and she wanted to contribute; she's a fine warrior and her sisters-in-law keep an eye on the children when she's running missions."

Tobirama suspects 'tree through the ribcage' means it was Hashirama who killed Nyū's husband, leaving her with three children under five –one an infant– and no other means of supporting herself than returning to the battlefield. If Anija knew, he _would_ cry; he tries so hard _not_ to kill people, it's ridiculous. He'd be wailing even now over half-orphaning three children who might easily become full orphans if their mother also dies in the field.

Then again, considering what Izuna told him about the state of Uchiha medical care, it's _very_ likely that Anija has critically over-estimated what a non-fatal injury looks like for Uchiha. Much as Tobirama had until Izuna ripped back the curtain, honestly; he'd never considered that the Senju standard of medical care might not _be_ standard. Now though… _now_ he wonders how many clans lack all but the most basic medical care, and how many of them could even _afford_ to have a medical tradition, given that even the Uchiha have not managed it until very recently.

Tobirama drags his mind back to the present as they continue along the road, which as the buildings run out turns into a track, then –as the track turns right between fields– a narrow grassy footpath vanishing into the trees. However the moment they are under the trees another path is revealed, following the edge of the fields both to the left and the right; Izuna turns right and leads him…

…north. The fuuinjutsu is _definitely_ messing with his sense of direction, but the sun was directly behind them as they walked along the path, which means that they were walking west, and right of west is north.

"How can you mess with my sense of direction with fuuinjutsu?" He asks; it's very subtle, very effective and shockingly dangerous as well as a clever use of a passive effect as a defensive measure, as it evidently doesn't work on Uchiha.

"Did you know that your sense of direction is something a specific part of your brain does?" Izuna asks brightly, "and that in certain people this can be under-developed or damaged?"

"I did not know that," Tobirama concedes; he'd thought it was a learned thing. It might still be in part, if that is what she is implying by 'under-developed'. It might also be a developmental reference, like how children are sometimes born unfinished or slow.

"So all I have to do is tell your sense of direction to stop talking to you," Izuna continues cheerfully, "and it will."

"That's terrifying."

"Thank you!" Izuna beams at him. "I tried it out as a genjutsu first."

Tobirama is _very_ grateful she never used that one on him; then again, it's not really something with battlefield applications.

"It also affects the bits of your mind that help you string together memories to form models and maps," Izuna goes on, "as I'm sure you've noticed." She eyes him, chakra wry and faintly sore.

Tobirama nods cautiously; yes, he has noticed.

"If you are Uchiha, truly _know_ yourself to be Uchiha, accepting that you belong to the clan and caring for the clan as your kin, then it doesn't affect you."

Tobirama does not think of himself as Uchiha, even though _legally_ he is 'Uchiha Tobirama' now. He does not accept the Uchiha clan as his own, nor does he think of the people _belonging_ to it as people he should protect and care for above all.

And until he does, he will never be able to walk from one place to another within the compound without somebody leading him by the hand.

"A very effective defence," he offers tentatively.

Izuna nods, allowing the recognition that he does not yet accept her clan as his own to pass unspoken. "A little late for preventing past assassination attempts, but it will hopefully stand against future ones."

Tobirama can think of a few ways around such a thing, but he assumes it is but one defence among many; Izuna is likely to have been over-thorough when defending her home against assassins, considering she lost a brother to them so young.

They're the only people on the path, but it's not quiet: from the right come the singing of field-workers, the distant laughter of children, the wailing of the Uchiha roosters and the subtle susurrus of chewing silkworms, while overhead and to the left there is the cheerful cacophony of birdsong.

It's a nice day for a walk in the woods.

"How is moving house going?" Tobirama asks, changing the subject.

Izuna smiles at him and plunges into a description of wardrobe-sorting, book-dividing, renovations and various arguments over bedding, soft furnishings and bamboo blinds that he can easily visualise; it sounds _exactly_ the kind of thing his cousins would get into, amusing to watch but not to be caught in the middle of.

* * *

The trees around the Uchiha compound are odd. He'd thought they were all thickets of young saplings, possibly due to the mature trees being felled for building or firewood, but that is _not_ the case: the bases of the trees are thick, rough and ancient-looking, but from seven to two-dozen young trunks emerge from each, no more than a hand-span wide and all looking not much more than a decade old, more like the new thicket than a proper tree.

It's nothing like the tall spreading trees and open understory he's used to around the Senju compound; the visibility is very limited and there are a _lot_ more grassy plants and shrubs growing all around in patches of sunlight. He would have expected the area surrounding the Uchiha compound to have _better_ visibility, not _less_ , given that the Uchiha bloodline is an ocular one.

Tobirama resolves to ask Izuna about them, once she has finished her current conversation. Said conversation is with a pubescent girl in a pink kimono who has a hip-high cat summons wearing a short jacket leaning against her thigh, so Tobirama is staying _well_ back as Izuna crouches to allow the young teenager to lean close and mumble in her ear behind a hand. Well, as far as the fuuinjutsu on his back will allow, which is exactly three metres; he's slightly less distant than that in truth, so as not to feel the sunburst on his spine heating warningly every time Izuna shifts a little.

The girl has not taken her eyes off him once and has blinked remarkably little. The cat is not looking directly at him at all, but Tobirama knows better than to assume that doesn't mean it's watching him; whiskers are vastly more sensitive than most people realise. Izuna's words are indistinct, but her tone is patient and steady in contrast to the girl's anger and suspicion.

There's also a boy of maybe two. The boy is not talking, or looking up from the flowers blooming beside his own bare toes. He is wearing a patched, faded orange outfit and the girl has a gentle grip on one of his wrists that he is not protesting; he is sucking the thumb of his other hand. Tobirama has never seen a toddler so silent and still. Is there something wrong with him that the Uchiha –lacking sophisticated medical techniques– are not aware of?

"And Kei-chan too?" The girl asks, finally loud enough for Tobirama to hear.

"You are right that I have a responsibility to them both, Naka-Nimble," Izuna says seriously. "Of course you cannot entrust them to me at this time, but I do need a housekeeper now that I am moving out of the Clan Hall. Perhaps you could ask around the clan, to see which of our cousins would be willing to help me with the house and both little ones. If two would be willing, that would be better."

The girl nods firmly, her fiery chakra shifting at last from angry accusation to determined acceptance. Then she takes her eyes off Tobirama for the first time since arriving through the bushes and bows to Izuna, steady and sincere. "Izuna-sama does not neglect her responsibilities," she states, then picks up the toddler and walks away again into the underbrush, the summons at her heels.

Tobirama waits, then walks up to Izuna; she is still staring after the children and their feline guardian. "Can you explain that to me?" He asks quietly. What little he heard at the end there sounded like Izuna was adopting someone –possibly two someones– and arranging for there to be more people than just her in her future home. Having other people there will make it harder for Tobirama to persuade her to let him spend time in the house with her. _Especially_ if she takes in small children; if she does that she will also have less time for him generally.

Izuna nods, still not looking at him. "Not long after New Year, when the passes out of Frost Country cleared briefly, you took a mission up there with another Senju," she says quietly. "On your way back from it you came across a twelve-person Uchiha trading party in Hot Water, whom you slaughtered without mercy."

"Yes, I did." It's the truth, yet all he feels is trepidation; why bring up past actions?

"The party ranged in age from Kenashi-ji, an uncle on my mother's side, who was fifty-three and had never touched a sword in his life," Izuna continues lightly, "through two of his daughters, their husbands, three less closely-related cousins in their teens and four children: twelve-year-old Kannin-chan, eleven-year-old Kenashi-kun, eight-year-old Tadashi-kun and five-year-old Aso-kun. There was also a not-yet-named girl only six days old, who was the reason why the trading party were still in Hot Water: Her mother gave birth a week sooner than expected, delaying them as she recovered enough to travel."

Tobirama's throat closes.

"All my maternal cousins have very strong chakra; there is much of Kabema in that side of the family," Izuna continues calmly, without even a hint of accusation. "Most of them do not fight, instead spending most of the year selling Uchiha goods across the Elemental Nations and buying the goods we need in return. I believe Kenashi-ji's group had perhaps two swords between them and no armour beyond their coats; they were armed with staves, knives and some steel wire for deterring bandits, along with a couple of axes for felling trees."

She pauses; Tobirama doesn't say anything, _can't_ say anything. He is frozen and trying desperately to remember _something_ that will let him contest her telling of this tale, but finding nothing at all. He did not have _all_ the details Izuna is recounting, but none of what he _does_ have runs counter or even slightly askew of Izuna's words; worse, he _knows_ she is not one for falsehoods.

"My cousin Katami was a sensor; when she felt you coming she made her younger sister give the baby to Kannin-chan, a careful genjutsu ensuring the infant slept soundly and would not wake for several hours. Then the adults made the children hide high in the pine trees and promise to stay silent and not come down until a kinsman came to fetch them, before setting off running in two different directions, hoping that forcing their pursuers to split up would let _somebody_ get far enough to sent word to the clan so that the children could be rescued."

Izuna turns to look at him; her eyes are only sad but Tobirama still flinches. She is only being _truthful_ but this truth is a horror.

"You and your kinsman cut them down, though the teenagers at least made your kinsman pay dearly for their deaths, blinding him; but you did not then pick him up and turn south back to your clan. Instead you offered him a little care, then went looking for the children."

"I did not _know_ they were _children_ ," Tobirama bursts out. It is _true_ , it really is, and yet–

"No, you likely did not," Izuna agrees mildly. "They would have been well-hidden up those trees. But you sensed four strong chakra signatures, three of them clearly Fire-natured, and you drowned them without ever touching them. Then you went back to your kinsman, not even bothering to close the eyes of the dead you had left behind you." She pauses. "A passing hunter heard the baby screaming the next morning, climbed the trees and found the frozen bodies, then had his village headman pay a messenger to bring word our clan."

Tobirama turns and vomits behind a tree, the bark rough against his steadying hand as he retches uncontrollably.

"That girl is now named Keigetsu, and she along with Kiso-kun that you saw just now with Naka-Nimble are some of the few of my mother's close kin still living; Kiso-kun was left here with cousins after catching chicken pox last summer and _still_ doesn't understand why his parents and siblings haven't come home yet. He's been quiet since Madara-nii sat down and gently told him they _aren't_ coming home; I think he thinks they've left him behind on purpose because they don't want him anymore."

Tobirama has nothing _left_ in his stomach to throw up, but he hacks up bile for another excruciating minute before Izuna's hand on his spine curls with chakra to touch the seal under his clothing and forcibly settle his body. He trembles violently, forehead resting against the slender trunk above his hand, other hand clenched in his kimono over his knee.

He left an _infant_ up a _tree_ in _January_. _Overnight._

An _infant_. Strapped to a _corpse_.

When did he become _worse_ than his father?

" _Why_ did you marry me?" He croaks. How _could_ she, knowing _this_ and _still_ letting him _touch_ her–!

"I wanted the deaths to stop."

"You could have achieved that," Tobirama says, trying very hard not to scream and mostly succeeding, "by _killing me!"_

Izuna sighs. "You think my hands are any cleaner than yours? Really? That your crimes are somehow greater? Your kin are no less dead at my hands than mine at yours. Some of the young men I've killed in the field couldn't even have been _fourteen_."

Tobirama hiccups. "Twelve is when most Senju start." He did not ever think that was too young before today. Not when he had started at ten and survived it. Now he wonders how many of his kin die before _ever_ seeing fourteen, much less being old enough to marry.

"Children," Izuna says quietly, "and did I stay my hand, though I maybe could have? I did not, no more than you did. I grieve for my little cousins, but I do not condemn you. How can I? I have nowhere to stand and you would have every right to judge me in turn."

He hiccups again, eyes closed against the shamefully grateful tears he can feel welling up. "So you are taking the children."

"Naka-Nimble is correct that I am responsible twice over for them, once for being their first cousin and married with my own home and no other dependents, and again for having taken you as my concubine despite knowing you are responsible for their parents' deaths," Izuna says simply. "So I will. I have funds enough and it will reduce the pressure on those currently caring for them. Naka-Nimble has two younger siblings to keep an eye on already and no living parents; her older siblings do their best, but they're not adults yet and there's only so much they can do when Torao-kun's in the Outguard and Sen-chan is learning a trade."

"And," Tobirama swallows stinging bile, trying to steady his voice, "Naka-Nimble does not _care_ that I will be around the little ones?"

He feels Izuna shrug as a cup is pressed into his other hand. "You are my responsibility, just as the children are. If I allow them to come to harm I will be judged accordingly; she knows this. She also knows I am not one to neglect my responsibilities."

Tobirama blindly lifts the cup to his lips; if it is poison, it is poison. He _deserves_ it.

It is just water. He washes his mouth out, then sips the rest before passing the empty cup back to her and wiping his face with a handkerchief pulled from between the folds of his kimono. "You are going to introduce them to me." He _knows_ her now; she will not let him turn from the truth of the consequences of his actions. She sees herself too clearly to allow him to do otherwise. She does not hide her actions by labelling those she fights as 'enemies' rather than 'human,' never mind 'children.'

"I am; they will be living with me until they are grown, after all," Izuna says calmly, "and I have hope that one day you will also live with me in my home."

"You are very kind," Tobirama manages, "but you have no mercy _whatsoever_ in your soul." And he can do nothing but respect that brilliant, shining ruthlessness that she steadfastly refuses to stray from, because there is honour in the path she walks for all it must cut her to the bone with every step.

Izuna sighs, then grabs his shoulder and pulls him upright and around to face her; Tobirama does not resist. "Don't you want to do _better?"_ She asks.

"Better?" Tobirama repeats, incredulity and bitterness warring for supremacy. "How can I make _any_ of this _better?"_

"Kiso-kun and Keigetsu-chan need a father," Izuna says steadily. "That will make life better for _them_ , which is what _matters_."

Tobirama sags, fledgling anger fleeing; she's right. He _hates_ that she's right. He can't go back; what is done cannot be undone. There is only going onwards, and that is something he has taken from them both that he _can_ give back. "Fine."

Izuna eyes him. "If you agree to this you don't get to back out later, or to do it _badly_."

Tobirama _glares_. "I have _never_ ," he says, _utterly_ offended, " _deliberately_ failed at anything in my _life_." And he is _not_ about to _start!_

Izuna nods a very precise fraction of a bow. "I will hold you to that."

"Please do." He has no experience whatsoever with infants or toddlers more recent than his own childhood, but he can learn. He _will_ learn. He shoves his horror and self-loathing into a box at the back of his mind; it won't help. It won't _change_ anything. All he can do is go on.

Izuna holds out a hand. "Shall we continue?"

She does not comment on the puddle of vomit, or the fact he's probably a bit grey right now. Tobirama is humiliatingly grateful for that small sop to his pride.

He takes her hand again. "Lead on."

Wherever they end up, he has given up all hope that it won't hurt. But he now knows without question that he _will_ survive it, because Izuna is not merciful enough to grant him a quick death; the shrimp on his other kimono have made that much _abundantly_ clear.

* * *

Tobirama chews on a mint leaf through the next conversation, which is with a fairly elderly man Izuna calls 'Kukuri-ji' who has a crow perched on his shoulder. This conversation is all politics and euphemisms, so Tobirama knows he's missing at _least_ half of what is actually being _said,_ but it's not as long a talk as it might be and afterwards the introduction specifies that this man is 'of Yatagarasu' like Hikaku is. It is possible that the Uchiha crow contract is _only_ associated with the Yatagarasu lineage, which is a very interesting thought. Is there perhaps a cat-themed lineage that safeguards the Uchiha's cat contract?

"Why are the trees so odd-looking?" He asked after they have moved on. They have walked for some time now and the trees here look much younger –barely three years growth at best with correspondingly more undergrowth– but they still sprout from massive, gnarled bases and roots.

Izuna blinks at him. "Senju don't coppice?"

Tobirama blinks back; he's never heard that word before in his life. "That's a new term." Something to do with germinating late growth?

"We cut the trees back regularly, but carefully and at large enough intervals that they grow again afterwards," Izuna explains. "And we do it in sections, so that the undergrowth regenerates as well and there's a good range of ground cover."

Tobirama frowns, trying to picture this novel practice. "You _farm_ the trees?" That is what it sounds like.

"And the ground cover," Izuna agrees, smiling encouragingly. "Berry bushes, ferns, various greens; the animals as well, as more ground-cover means more hares and game birds to feed on them, as well as more deer."

Yes, Tobirama can see _abstractly_ how that could be possible, however: "That would take a _lot_ of land to manage effectively."

Izuna's tattoo crinkles as she tries not to grin too widely; Tobirama eyes her suspiciously. What has he missed? He knows the Uchiha are noble and own land, as is their right.

"Treasure, you _read_ the legal code," his wife reminds him gently. "Legally we own the land we live upon, and own _enough_ land that the Fire Daimyo –and others– consider us to be daimyo in our own right, for all that we have given our allegiance and support to the Kurahashi these past five centuries and have no tenants of our own, so cannot truly call ourselves 'landlords'." The Kurahashi are the clan the Fire Daimyo is head of.

"It doesn't say how _much_ land that is," Tobirama defends.

Izuna shakes her head at him. "You know the three mountains behind the clan compound to the north, and the western hilly area that ends with the southern sandstone cliffs overlooking the river where it bends to the west?"

"Yes?"

"All of that."

Oh. Well. That _is_ a lot of land. Yes, he _had_ noticed occasional Uchiha ranging across it back before Izuna married him, but he assumed they were hunting parties or just patrols like the Senju run. "What do you use all that wood _for?"_ That's far too much just for domestic use, even with the clan being twice as big as the Senju and vassals together.

"Charcoal," Izuna says easily.

Tobirama pauses. "This is how you can afford to make your own steel, isn't it?"

Izuna nods, lips twitching. "In part, yes. But Tobirama, I know for a fact _you_ have bought Uchiha charcoal before now, if through various merchant proxies."

Tobirama stops and tries to compute this. _He_ has bought charcoal? He's _never_ bought charcoal for cooking or heating, not personally. What else is charcoal used for? Countering poisons? But he doesn't buy that, the clan does. What else–

Enlightenment dawns. "The Uchiha clan makes _ink_ from their charcoal."

Izuna bares her teeth teasingly at him as she bounces on her toes. "The finest ink in the Elemental Nations!"

Tobirama remembers Mito complaining about the price of good fuuinjutsu ink and its rarity and groans, covering his face with one hand. No _wonder_ the Uzumaki have developed various techniques to adapt regular writing ink for fuuinjutsu; they _cannot_ buy the best ink directly from its makers –might not even know who the makers _are_ – and the various proxies along the way are all too keen to make a profit when they _know_ that those seeking to buy their product have no alternative; no other way to gain good ink but to pay and pay and pay.

"No wonder you were able to develop so much fuuinjutsu." Good ink _dramatically_ increases the stability of an array.

"It did not hurt," Izuna agrees lightly, tugging on his hand; Tobirama allows himself to be led onwards as the sun climbs higher in the sky; it will be time for lunch in another hour or so.

"I was promised fishing," he reminds her.

"That's up the river; I _did_ offer you the direct route but you were disinclined."

She did not _say_ as much at the time, but Tobirama can concede that 'fish' and 'walk up the river' do indeed go together. "Can we cut a corner off this walk to get to the fishing faster?" The trees are very nice, but he's been _looking_ _forward_ to fish so fresh it wriggles in the pan.

Izuna hums thoughtfully, thumb playing idly across his knuckles. "Yes indeed, that could work nicely," she agrees after a brief pause. Then she leads him out of the woods off the next rabbit track, down a diagonal path across a field of mulberry trees where a group of young women are picking leaves as they sing together.

The song does not stop as Izuna tows him past the group, although almost everybody looks up to watch them pass by. Well, mostly watch _him;_ Tobirama does his best to nod politely at each girl as he briefly meets their eyes and not think too hard about that quiet wariness.

It is not hostility; hostility would almost have been easier and certainly _deserved_ given he has somehow become a worse monster than his father. This steady caution reminds him far too much of the Senju compound and how his more distant kin eye him when he somehow says or does something that unsettles them. He's never been able to pinpoint _what_ those things are; they seem to change every time, so he has given up on more than the basics of never parting his lips more than the minimum when he smiles or laughs –Izuna doesn't mind his teeth in the slightest– and keeping the black humour under wraps.

Madara had _laughed_ when Tobirama forgot himself and replied to a clarification into the intricacies of inter-clan diplomacy with a sharp, 'well we're all going to die then.'

One of the smaller girls half-hiding behind an older sibling or cousin shyly waves at him; Tobirama smiles and waves back, making her eyes and chakra light up with bright and uncomplicated joy.

"Making friends, Treasure?" Izuna asks as they leave the field for a wider dirt track at a slightly different angle, falling back in step beside him and smiling teasingly.

"Should I not be?"

Izuna's smile deepens, crinkling the tattoo around her eyes, both the loop under her left eye and its opposite twisting over her right eyebrow. "Oh no," she says facetiously, "my concubine is accumulating _admirers_. Whatever shall I do?"

"Maybe if you give them _permission_ to visit they'll stop loitering on street corners and peeking at me over the fences of neighbouring houses." Since the rescue of the temari from his garden a good number of the clan's children have taken _much_ more of an interest in him, but they are all very meticulously keeping their distance. Which, given that they are children, has resulted in a multitude of adorably transparent espionage attempts; Tobirama's favourite so far is the quintet of little girls who very pointedly bring their spinning and their mending baskets and sit in the neighbouring field of willow trees, an orderly half-circle that gives them all a good view of the Diplomatic Quarters and its garden.

He's been leaving the shōji on that side open on purpose when he notices they're there. It's only been twice so far, but they're delightful in how blatantly they're bending the rules and the thought they've put into their excuses.

Izuna chuckles. "I _might_ issue some specific invitations," she concedes quietly, "but no more than that. I don't want you getting swamped, which is what _will_ happen if I simply reduce the restrictions on interacting with you."

She's not talking particularly quietly and they have an audience, if a fairly discreet one: a handful of clansmen of varying age checking over field crops and some playing children who have paused in their skipping game to eavesdrop. Tobirama appreciates her care; much as he likes children, being _constantly_ pestered would very swiftly wear out his patience.

"And what criteria would you consider in issuing those invitations, Lord-Wife?"

Izuna smirks at him, clearly aware of the listening ears. "Well first they must _ask_ me, and do it _properly_ , seeing as you are in my care in my role as Amaterasu Head. Then I can discuss those requests with you and you can decide if you would like to be visited and when. Then I issue the invitations and arrange matters so you can host appropriately."

Again his wife shows her thoughtfulness in obtaining his consent before involving him in things that would infringe upon his person and private space. "I would enjoy hosting visitors if I would be allowed to serve them tea," he says daringly.

Izuna eyes him in a way that says she knows _exactly_ what he's up to, but her smile doesn't waver. "I'm sure something could be arranged, Treasure. Which reminds me; now the weather is better I should host a Tea Ceremony in the garden."

"Nodate?" He has not done that… when did he last do that? It's been at least two years. Possibly closer to four; yes, it _has_ been four years since he last enjoyed a tea ceremony outside. "I would enjoy that very much."

Izuna lifts his knuckles to her lips. "Then it would be my pleasure to serve you in this, Tobirama," she murmurs, her words pitched for his ears only.

"Flirt," he accuses without heat.

"Oh yes," she agrees instantly. "But you enjoy my efforts."

Tobirama can't deny it; despite keeping him very well-caged, Izuna never _assumes_ she has any right to his time or attention. She works for it constantly and it is _desperately_ flattering.

"Will you still flirt with me when I am old and wrinkled and arthritic?" he can't stop himself from asking.

Izuna's smile turns soft and aching. "Oh, I will be flirting with you on my deathbed, Treasure, and on every day leading up to it," she swears, free hand on her heart. "How could I _not_ when it makes your eyes smile so?"

"Just my eyes?" Tobirama retorts lightly, knowing that he's smiling a bit more widely than his own kinsmen find entirely comfortable.

"And your chakra," Izuna adds teasingly, batting her eyelashes at him as he rolls his eyes, "and that lovely mouth full of _excellent_ teeth."

Tobirama throws his head back and _laughs_ ; Izuna laughs with him, brilliant and joyful.

Nobody within his sensing range seems to find the sight of his teeth to be worthy of any more caution or concern than they were already displaying simply from having him so close by. Tobirama pushes it to the back of his mind; the Uchiha have cat summons, so it follows that they're used to the effects a predatory summoning contract can have on the humans who are signatories.

There's no reason for their lack of fear to hurt. No reason at all.

* * *

Izuna's path across the Uchiha compound cuts past a kiln in the midst of a firing, the heat radiating from it a tangible thing. Tobirama's almost tempted to get Izuna to stop, but there's nobody around to talk to so evidently it was loaded some time ago and won't be opened for a good long while, so he sets his curiosity aside for later. If he asks, Izuna might set up a visit specifically _to_ the kiln next time.

"I hadn't realised the Uchiha made ceramics," he says as they head past the raised roof covering a pottery workshop and three men talking quietly over tea among the wheels and shelves.

Izuna hums. "Fire is fire; why wouldn't we?"

True; Tobirama has not ever considered how jutsu might be applicable to industry, but it's certainly something to think about more later. "Your clan use fire jutsu for making steel as well, don't you?" It is the obvious extrapolation.

His wife hums again, catching his eye with a mischievous smirk. "My treasure is most perceptive."

"Well you married me for my brain," he jokes.

Her eyes rake appreciatively up and down his body. "Rest assured, I considered the _full_ package before committing myself," she teases back.

Tobirama chuckles; he knows perfectly well that Izuna did _not_ start actively lusting after him until after they'd been physically intimate for about a week, so what she _means_ is that she found him aesthetically pleasing. Which is in many ways more flattering.

He never really thought about Izuna's looks before getting kidnapped, but he does remember vaguely recognising that his battlefield rival had a face many women would find attractive when dismissing the rumours about Izuna's promiscuity. In that he'd assumed the rumours were so widespread _because_ Izuna had the kind of looks found in paintings of noble heroes.

Knowing Izuna is a woman means Tobirama has to rethink that a little: her face is a little too thin for conventional female beauty, her chin too pointy and height considerably more than is considered becoming, but she has the slim, upright figure required to look effortlessly graceful in a kimono and moves with the controlled grace that only the intense awareness of self instilled by the battlefield can provide.

She is no court beauty, but Tobirama likes the sharpness and the underlying unyielding strength; Izuna is not fragile, does not even pretend at frailty and he appreciates the honesty of that. She knows herself completely and doesn't hide it; she has the unselfconscious grace of a full-sized she-tiger and it makes her a joy to watch.

They walk between two more farmhouses and then the view opens out, revealing a network of fishponds edged by willow trees and reeds, with lotuses floating on the surface of the water and all manner of other plants poking through here and there, presumably to dissuade birds. The fish can still just about be seen under the surface though, dull and muddy-coloured rather than the brightly-scaled koi of Mito's pond, with each section of the watery network containing a different breed and size of fish.

So _many_ fish. It's hard to linger on his misery when there is fish to be had. Fish that is _properly_ fresh, even.

"Let's go talk to Odasshu-ji about which pond needs thinning out, shall we?" Izuna says, nudging him and making him realise he's stopped walking.

"I welcome the opportunity to do something constructive with my time," Tobirama says, hoping he doesn't sound _too_ eager. Going by the crinkle in the corners of Izuna's eyes he's probably failed, but seeing as she just leads him across a narrow causeway to an open-sided shed on stilts where a man and three small boys are busily weaving fish-traps he still counts it as a win.

There is no meal that tastes so good as freshly-caught fish.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consent gets Very Dubious in this chapter.

_No!_

Tobirama jerks upright on the futon, the scream lodged in his throat as darkness presses against his eyes and cold sweat shivers on his skin. A dream. It was a dream. Just a dream.

– _Itama and Kawarama's bodies falling from the pine tree into the snow with staggered thumps, followed by Midori-chan and Higi, limp and lifeless with pinkish water dribbling from their mouths. His little cousins, his_ _ **brothers**_ _he_ _ **killed**_ _them and didn't even_ _ **think**_ _about it_ –

– _didn't **care**_ **–**

Tobirama presses the back of his hand to his mouth and _trembles_. He'd known, intellectually, that he wouldn't sleep well after what Izuna told him yesterday, but _this_ …

There's an inquiring mew from the corner of the room, then a small warm body presses against his back and hip. Still shaking, Tobirama lowers a hand to run down the cat's spine as she climbs into his lap and butts her head against his chest.

"I just had a nightmare," he confesses quietly, voice hitching halfway through. "I should go get a drink."

The cat rubs her head vigorously against the front of his sleeping yukata, purring loudly. She's completely white, so almost visible despite how dark the fusuma room is in the middle of the night. The contact helps, a little. She's not as large or solid as a leopard, but she's trying her best to comfort him and her fur is soft against his hands. It's enough.

"Thank you," Tobirama manages, trying to shoo her off his lap for a few futile moments then giving up and picking her up as he gets to his feet. Her response to being held is to plaster herself against his chest and somehow purr even _more_ loudly, prompting him to purr back on reflex.

Purring is surprisingly soothing; he keeps doing it all the way to the washroom. Washing his face is rather more challenging with a cat twining around his calves, but she drags a laugh from him when she decides she needs to be higher up, leaps for the sink rim –and misses, tumbling head-over-tail into the deep basin with a yowl.

Her haughty body language and demure grooming after extracting herself make the whole thing funnier.

* * *

Tobirama wasn't expecting to get back to sleep after that, but with the cat determinedly dragging her kittens over into his bedding _again_ and purring loudly against his chest as he curled up around them, he did eventually manage to drift off. The dream doesn't come back, but he sleeps uneasily and wakes to the gentle glimmer of pre-dawn, too early and still exhausted but in no mood to try and get any more rest.

He can nap after lunch, maybe. But for now a wash and some time on the engawa watching the sun rise will help him feel more human.

It's not until he's folding in half the black leaf-and-seed-painted obi that Tobirama realises that he's put on a pair of the yellow cream silk tabi and matching nagajuban under the willow kimono with its hanging sleeves, and while the full-width obi is a bit much for everyday, he doesn't swap it for the half-width checked obi or the soft rapeseed green obi. He likes the quiet sobriety of this combination, and the drum bow is easier than the shellfish one despite requiring padding tying into it to keep it properly curved.

He unties the messy sleeping braid only after he has settled on the engawa, carefully combing his curls into order starting from the ends as he watches the sunrise in the north-east, letting the sounds of the wild birds, the chickens and the gradual rousing of the compound soothe him. Even the droning rooster screams are oddly restful, now that he knows what they are. The glide of golden morning light over the treetops and buildings is a warm caress, and the scent of evaporating dew it brings in its wake reminds him so strongly of Izuna's chakra he has to remind himself that she's not actually here yet; it's just him and the cats in the house right now.

It does settle him though. He leaves his hair down, a tidy and gently coiling mass that hangs just past the lower edge of his shoulder-blades, and basks in the scent and soft warmth of the early morning. A few people pass by –a cluster of warriors heading on-duty– and one of them waves; Tobirama waves back, despite the identical coats of the clansmen and the hard boundary of the fence preventing him from conclusively identifying whoever it is. It might be Yufu or Akira, but at this distance and with the morning sun in his eyes, he wouldn't swear to it being either of them.

It's early enough that he doesn't _expect_ Izuna to show up for another hour yet, but she walks through the garden gate mere minutes after the warriors have trotted past, dressed in the plain deep purple kimono belted with an obi he hasn't seen before, flecked sand-brown painted with variously grey pebbles and cleverly textured reddish starfish in a range of sizes. She wanders through the garden rather than walking into the genkan, perching on the edge of the engawa within arm's reach of him.

The nagajuban peeking out at her neckline is peach-pink and so are her hair-cords.

"You're early," he notes.

His wife smiles at him, joy underpinned with dark humour and a hint of rawness. "I missed you."

Tobirama decides not to question it, shuffling close enough to curl his fingertips under her jaw and guide her forwards for a kiss. And then another kiss. And another.

When his mouth covers hers he can _taste_ her chakra, the first golden ray of morning sunshine on burning dew, sweet and fresh across his tongue and sliding down his throat, run through with aromatic notes of star anise and underpinned with a hint of powder-down and a touch of the crackling ozone that so overwhelmed her chakra in the instant when she saw him dressed for that first walk with his face painted. It's always been there, but it's usually far more elusive than this, vanishing under the background of her chakra element.

That violent inner storm –swift to rouse yet equally swift to subside– is a point in common with Madara, and Tobirama associates its faintly electric tang with the conjured chakra armour both siblings call Susano-o. It's nothing at all like Lightning-natured chakra, although he can't really _explain_ the difference; he doesn't have _words_ for the nuances or the genuinely distinctive scent it carries, almost yet not quite like the humid, biting wind that precedes Uzu's autumn hurricanes.

He doesn't know why his succeeding in so surprising her made her reflexively lean into that part of her bloodline, and he is reluctant to ask. So he will watch and wait –and do his best to surprise her again– in the hope of working it out for himself.

Most people's chakra doesn't _change_ like that, but Uchiha are oddly fluid in that sense; the fire, feathers and incense might be a persistent base scent, but spending time around them off the battlefield has been a revelation into how _profoundly_ strong emotion can overlay that, even if only for an instant. He is used to it being the other way around, emotion adding colour to the base scent rather than warping it so completely.

It makes him wonder at their emotional control that he has so very rarely noticed this on the battlefield, and even then in only very few warriors.

Of course, there is more to Izuna's scent than chakra; there is also the scent of her clothing and body, both so familiar now that he can pick out the individual herbs she keeps in her wardrobe to ward off moths and other insects, the subtleties of her soap and shampoo and the gentle shift in the nuance of her sweat that announces her pregnancy to the world.

She also smells like _him_.

That distinctive note, that _change_ arouses nameless, formless feeling in his chest, sharp and deep and aching for all its brilliance. He did that; he has irrevocably _changed_ Izuna and she will never return to the base scent she had before this pregnancy. Even if she loses the child –a possibility that he cannot discount entirely, for all that it makes his stomach twinge to contemplate it– she is _never_ going to stop sharing a fleeting trace of his own scent, just as Rika-ba still carries a trace of Kōshi-ji despite his being eight years dead; because Rika-ba bore her husband children, and it changed her.

He draws back a little, resting his forehead against hers. "I could kiss you like this all day," he admits quietly. The gentle, unhurried intimacy of it soothes the ache in his gut, driving away the lingering shreds of the nightmare haunting him and filling his blood and bones with warmth.

"There is nowhere else I need to be," Izuna says, reaching up to wrap one of his curls around her fingers.

Tobirama huffs lightly, warmed by her care despite the foolishness of her words. "Don't you have a house to supervise renovations in?" She talked about it at length yesterday on their walk, and even took him past the back of the building so he could see a little of it for himself.

"It will keep," Izuna replies easily, both hands now cradling his skull and fingertips lightly massaging his scalp. "You come first."

He knows she only means that he comes before the house, not before _everything_ else, but hearing those words from her _still_ feeds the seductive voice of madness at the back of his mind that wants him to _ask_ her to remove the fuuinjutsu on his back. Because when she said that she _meant_ it –he can taste the truth in her words– and since she means it, _surely_ she will bend to his need to be free? Surely she _will_ understand that, for all his gratitude to her for her conscientious respect for his agency and how flattered he is by her attentions and gifts, he _cannot_ live caged like this forever?

A few months, evidently. A year, maybe. More than that? No. The mere _prospect_ fills him with terrible dread. He would go mad by slow degrees, or be warped until he barely knows himself anymore.

"You promised me Nodate Chakai," he reminds her, changing the subject slightly.

"I did," she agrees. "Would you like it now, or after breakfast?"

Tobirama glances down at his outfit –acceptable– at her outfit –brighter, but not out of the question for somebody _hosting_ a Tea Ceremony– then around at the shadowed garden, the morning sun not quite high enough yet to even gild the tops of the bushes.

"Now would be very pleasant."

"Then now it shall be."

* * *

After the Tea Ceremony –being served by Izuna remains an intensely bittersweet experience– and a companionable breakfast, Tobirama manages to persuade his wife to go do some more responsible clan things by reminding her of Hikaku's words on 'addressing weaknesses.' Izuna allows herself to be shooed out the front gate with a wry smile, pausing for a kiss –chaste but heartfelt– and then heading off in the direction Tobirama assumes leads to the Clan Hall.

He's not had the building identified to him yet, but he suspects it's in the cluster of finer residences that Izuna's new house belongs to.

Left with only the kittens for company, Tobirama takes a blanket, the rare character guide, the court summaries and the oil-paper umbrella that appeared in the genkan the morning Izuna extended the range of the seal boundaries and goes to sit in the garden to read. It's a nice umbrella; pale blue in between a pattern of painted oak-leaves, cleverly mimicking the view of a clear sky through trees. Balancing it on his shoulder as he reads is a little tricky, but Tobirama manages.

He leaves his hair tied back in the loose twist Izuna put it up into before the tea. It's tidy and comfortable and he's not going anywhere anyway.

By the time the sun is fully overhead Tobirama is engrossed in the heavily-annotated scribal summary of what had initially _seemed_ to be a fairly mundane annual court session on rice tithes –which he would have skipped over if not for the heavy annotation in two different hands– but is _actually_ the source of a minor legislative change which set off six different rice-based trade wars over the past two decades. What is _fascinating_ is that the various annotations are _dated_ : the first ones are from two years after the legislation was put in place, predicting difficulties within the next five –followed by a lackadaisical additional of 'called it' dated four years later– and the half-gibberish shorthand in the margin with arrows pointing to various underlined sections helps Tobirama determine that the specific _change_ was in how rice tithes are calculated.

The system used to be a little more flexible, to account for bad years, but various people were falsifying poor conditions –including paying shinobi to sabotage the fields after the harvest had been taken in– so the daimyo had simplified matters to close loopholes. Tax is _currently_ based solely on field area and projected total yield… which means that in bad years a small independent settlement might be paying over half their _entire crop_ in tax, and a landowner who has suffered a major natural disaster has to choose between giving up the _entire_ harvest as tax, or taking the time and expense to appeal at court for a rebate.

A rebate which _must_ be repaid the following year.

This small, dull summary of a minor tax-code alteration has led to _multiple_ year-long shinobi campaigns where one party has hired Uchiha and the others Senju. All because the daimyo was tired of wasting his officials' time in investigating various noble tax scams and made the legislation harsher for everybody.

This explains _very well_ why the Uchiha have thick volumes of court transcripts clearly intended to be consulted regularly; the effect of politics in dictating shinobi activity is not something he's ever thought about until now, but clearly he _should_ have. Nobles and merchants are the only ones with pockets deep enough to regularly hire shinobi, so _why_ has he never considered looking into the underlying _causes_ of their hiring shinobi?

It's not something his father has ever mentioned _either_ , which is perhaps more concerning. Was it something he'd decided not to teach them yet? Or does he not _know_ this is the root of so many of the more serious clashes between the Uchiha and Senju over their lifetimes?

He barely notices Izuna's arrival until she steps into his light; likely on purpose so he realises she's there. Looking up, he sees she's brought bento.

"Lunchtime?" He asks, then slides his eyes away in embarrassment as his stomach rumbles.

"It is indeed." He can _hear_ her grinning at him as she joins him on the blanket; he moves the texts aside so as not to accidentally spill food on them.

"How was your morning?" He asks as she serves him the meal; mushroom soba again. There've been markedly fewer meals with meat in now that Tōka isn't here anymore, but at least he still gets a fish for breakfast every day. He hadn't thought much of the change until now –thinking it another of Izuna's semi-inscrutable decisions– but evidently it was a medical recommendation.

"There have been several requests for your company," Izuna says, picking up her chopsticks, "mostly from children, so I was wondering if you'd like them to visit you or if you would rather visit them; it would be the day after tomorrow, either way."

"I'd rather visit." If leaving the Diplomatic Quarters is an option, he will take it every time. "Should I dress accordingly?"

Izuna chuckles. "You are _technically_ being invited to babysit, so I would pick an outfit you don't mind small children drooling on."

Tobirama frowns thoughtfully as he eats his soba; he doesn't really _have_ any outfits like that. There _is_ indigo work-wear in his tansu, but that would be warrior dress and does not have at all the right connotations for babysitting. "Can't you do something with fuuinjutsu so I can wear what I like?" He asks after finishing his meal. Considering the other things he knows she can do with seals, making a kimono stain-proof _cannot_ be that challenging.

Izuna's gaze goes thoughtful and distant. "And if I could, which kimono would you wear?"

"The sakura dragon kimono," Tobirama says instantly; "I am _visiting_ after all." The children will be delighted by the pretty embroidery and that he is taking their invitation seriously. He's not decided which obi yet though; he's currently leaning towards the crab brocade but with the crabs on the inside, as the purple shibori is definitely a bit much for babysitting in.

Izuna smiles, tattoo crinkling and chakra dancing. "There _is_ something temporary I could do, yes. Although you'd have to make sure to have plenty of cloths and handkerchiefs on hand to mop up potentially staining substances, seeing as they wouldn't absorb into the silk."

"Perfectly achievable." Tobirama is not short of such things, both from his geisha-gift and what is piled up in the washroom.

"Then I shall arrange an outdoor space where your small hosts can receive you," his wife says solemnly.

"Will you also be attending?"

"I wasn't planning to; I am, after all, not invited."

A test then; one Tobirama has no intention of failing, seeing as it will doubtless net him further liberties. "Since you will be _abandoning_ me for part of the day then, you should spend extra time with me now and tomorrow," he decides, suddenly hungry for her attention. "You haven't brushed my hair today."

"How remiss of me," Izuna replies as she clears away the bowls, eyes brightly knowing but chakra warmly amenable. "I shall rectify my failure at _once_."

And maybe afterwards, when he's feeling languid and playful, Tobirama will talk her out of her kimono and onto his futon; he still has that promise of fucking her witless that he made on the day of his first walk to keep, after all. Doing so would make an _exceptionally_ pleasant ending to today.

* * *

Tobirama's not entirely sure if it's the drop in temperature or the sound of rain that wakes him, but he opens his eyes to near-complete darkness and the steady susurrus of a cloudburst. He's not cold –he can't be cold with Izuna in his arms, her skin radiating heat– but he's somehow tossed the thin blanket partly off himself and his upper back is entirely exposed, making him shiver.

He starts moving, then freezes as Izuna shifts slightly in his grip and he realises where _exactly_ one of his hands has ended up; her sigh and twitch when he flexes his fingers makes his gut bounce, caught between horror and hilarity. How did his hand get _there?_

And, of course, it's his _right_ hand. Tobirama very carefully extracts his left hand from the tangle of wife and sheets and awkwardly pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, shaking it so it covers him properly, and then leans slightly on his left elbow as he tries to kick the lower end of the blanket into order.

Comfort swiftly returns, the steady patter of rain soothing in his ears, but Tobirama can't get back to sleep. Not when his body is suddenly _very interested_ in Izuna's involuntary reactions to his accidental but extremely _intimate_ intrusion. He flexes his fingers again without even thinking about it and then feels guilty and ashamed when her hips rock against his hand and she mumbles something incomprehensible.

He should _not_ be doing this. Really should _not._ He knows better –said he'd _do_ better–

Izuna's head rolls back, exposed throat a pale shadow in the gloom. "Gonna fuck me, husband?" She asks; Tobirama's every muscle stiffens in reflexive shock and lust, fingers clenching automatically.

"Hm, yea, peonies," she adds nonsensically, pressing herself back against his body; Tobirama realises she's _still asleep_ and tries to will his heart to slow down a bit. Izuna sleep-talks, she warned him she sleep-talks even, but still, experiencing it like _this_ –

"Nine eyes, nine paws, don't worry there's always cats," Izuna continues, utterly conversational and still dead to the world. She's asleep.

"Water up the side-stairs." It doesn't matter that she's rocking her hips between his hand and his groin, she's _asleep_ and he needs to, he should–

"Yes there harder," she says breathily, arching her back against his chest. Tobirama closes his eyes _tight_ but it makes everything _worse_ not better. Her scent –it's _lying_ she's _asleep_ – the wet slickness around his fingers, the taunting grind of her behind against his insistent hardness–

"Trees are full of fish," Izuna adds, making Tobirama snort and chuckle despite his predicament.

"I'd like to see a fish tree, wife," he mutters fondly, then groans when her reaction to his voice is to _shudder_ against him.

"Please, please don't stop," she gasps, scent spiking. Tobirama tries dizzily to get his bearings. His blood is on fire, his heart is pounding in his ears, his groin _aches_ and his hands are–

–Izuna's body clenches around his fingers, a taunt, a dare–

– _Waking up with you sheathed inside me? Oh, I'd have_ enjoyed _that_ –

–Tobirama gasps blindly against the back of Izuna's neck as she _squirms_ under him – _around_ him oh fuck–

–oh _yes–_

" _Husband,_ " Izuna whimpers, _begs_ and it's _too much_ –

* * *

He tastes blood as Izuna finally peaks, then her chakra wakes and sharpens and the euphoria singing in his veins collapses like a landslide, dragging him down with it into freezing shame. Pulling out and scrambling off her, he turns and then almost falls flat on his face when a slim, strong hand wraps around his calf just below the knee and _pulls._

On his hands and knees, Izuna's steel grip threatening to dislocate one of said knees, Tobirama looks back at unimpressed luminous spinning red eyes. "Sorry," he manages.

"Get back here," Izuna demands flatly. Tobirama stares, unable to line up her words with her chakra –decently focused– her scent –languid pleasure with a hint of pain– and his acute awareness of his own wrongdoing.

She drags him back down onto the futon, sitting up to grip his upper arm and roll him over so he's on his back then settling on top of him; Tobirama lets her manhandle him, pulse fluttering in his throat like a wild bird in a net. He can't get away, there's nowhere to _go_ and anyway he doesn't _deserve_ to escape.

"So," Izuna asks once she's flopped over him, forearms flat on his chest and those slowly spinning sharingan staring into his eyes from a mere hand-span away, "what was _that_ about?"

"Which part?" Tobirama hears himself ask, then almost cringes at how disrespectful he sounds. Izuna however just snorts.

"I'm guessing that biting me was instinct," she says dryly, "since the seal _let_ you do it."

The icy shiver down Tobirama's spine comprehensively smothers any remaining afterglow. He'd forgotten about that. The seal that limits him in more ways than just binding his chakra and curtailing his movements; the seal that somehow _didn't_ maim him for forcing himself on Izuna.

"Talk to me, Tobirama."

Tobirama licks dry lips. "I woke up," he manages, "and realised I was touching you, and you started talking to me and I _knew_ you were asleep, but," what does he say next? What _can_ he say next?

Izuna hums. "I'm guessing I was asking you to fuck me," she says conversationally.

"Yes." And calling him _husband_. Which, even _remembering_ it makes fresh heat curl in his gut despite the seriousness of the situation.

"And it's the middle of the night, so you weren't exactly thinking straight."

"Not really." She doesn't _sound_ too upset, at least?

"And I _did_ say I wouldn't mind you waking me up with sex."

"You didn't say it _tonight_ ," Tobirama points out. He reduced her to blissful incoherence yesterday, to the point that dinner had been over an hour delayed, and after eating the meal and mochi that had been delivered with it she'd stumbled back into his bed and passed out again almost immediately; being tired himself, he'd joined her not long after. There'd not been an _opportunity_ for her to offer consent.

"No, I didn't," Izuna agrees, face a pale half-shadow almost invisible behind those luminous scarlet eyes, "But I am _also_ sleeping in your bed, very much on purpose, knowing that you will _absolutely_ take every advantage over me you can get. If I wanted to be entirely safe from liberties being taken I would be in _my_ bed." She pauses. "Or I'd at least have put something _on_ rather than going to sleep naked. Nothing sensible ever comes of sleeping naked."

That sounds like a well-worn quote. "Experience talking?" Tobirama can't help asking.

She snorts. "Remember the year when it just _rained?"_

"Vividly." They'd both been fourteen; he'd not actually seen very much of Izuna that year. He remembers being disappointed, given all the water available to him at that point.

"There were various long missions, there was mud, there were clothes that went mouldy, there was huddling for warmth as the clothing was hung up to dry out," Izuna says, tone very dry. "However there were also young warriors in the _thick_ of puberty all tangled up together in small spaces wearing just their skins."

Tobirama can imagine it all too easily. He can picture a _lot_ of ways for that to be _horribly embarrassing_ for _everybody_ involved.

"My saving grace," Izuna continues, tone still dry, "was that at no point did my father assign me a mission with Madara-nii. I think his head would have exploded had we woken up entangled."

Tobirama can't stop the snigger that erupts out of his mouth at that mental image.

"Exactly," Izuna agrees with considerable aplomb. "So while I didn't _explicitly_ say I was fine with you having your wicked way with my body while I was sleeping, if I had been _against_ the possibility I wouldn't _be_ here." She pauses. "But I also didn't _say_ that to you; I should have done."

Tobirama feels his heart rate finally settle with the implied assurance that she's not going to do anything agonisingly permanent to him for pressing his attentions on her when she was unconscious.

"And my only _complaint_ ," his shameless, baffling, _wicked_ wife says, the promise of mortification glimmering in her tone and chakra, "is that you tried to _run away_ the moment I woke up." She clicks her tongue at him. "Ruined the moment, Treasure."

Tobirama suddenly _knows_ that when she says 'treasure' she does not simply mean 'beloved;' she means _husband_. That is what she says in her sleep; that is what she _wants_ to call him. What she wants him to _be_. The realisation steals his breath.

"Treasure?"

Tobirama finds his voice. "Would my beautiful wife allow me to make it up to her?" he asks a little hoarsely. He can't process, not right now, but he _will_ and then–

Izuna slumps on top of him, chin resting on her arms. "What did you have in mind, Treasure?"

"What would please my wife to receive?" Tobirama asks, heart rattling in his chest. "Seeing as I 'ruined the moment' earlier."

Izuna slides up his body, straddling his hips and leaning down so those lazily spinning black-on-red eyes are all he can see. "Oh," she says coyly, "I think my concubine knows _exactly_ what I'd like to receive from him."

Tobirama _knows_ the seal on his back does _something_ to his recovery time, because he's fairly sure he wouldn't _normally_ be half-hard again this soon without deliberate effort and chakra manipulation. "My Lord-Wife," he manages, staring up into those red-red eyes with the languidly circling black tomoe, "is most welcome to _take_ what she wants."

Izuna's hand caresses down the centre of his chest and stomach, then her fingers are closing around his sword and guiding him back inside her sheath. Slick, yielding heat flutters around him, echoes of her recent peak; Tobirama feels himself hardening further in response to the teasing caresses and Izuna shifts slightly, making a _very_ satisfied sound in the back of her throat as her eyes slide half-closed.

"What else would please my beautiful wife?" Tobirama asks, voice low and slightly rough as a shudder rakes up his spine from groin to nape.

Izuna languidly drapes herself over him, tugging up the blankets and wrapping her arms around his chest before rolling them over sideways, trapping her right leg under his hip. "Hold me," she murmurs in his ears, the luminous red fading from her eyes, "kiss me. But mind my neck."

Tobirama is reminded that the faint blood-scent lingering in the room is because he _bit_ her. "Don't you want to clean and cover that?" It would be safer to do so immediately.

Izuna huffs. "I've burnt out any potential infection with fire chakra and slapped fuuinjutsu over it; it'll keep." Her teeth scrape tauntingly over his jaw. "Cuddle me, Treasure."

Tobirama obediently wraps his arms around her back and presses a kiss to her shoulder, then lets one hand slide slowly all the way down her spine to grip her buttock. The deep, pleased murmur in her chest is all the approval he needs; he rolls his hips, a slight movement that creates a warm, tingling friction that is deliciously unhurried; they _will_ have to bathe after this, but that won't be any trouble.

He takes his time kissing all of her throat, shoulder and face he can reach, savouring her scent and chakra and the little noises she makes, as well as the heat of her body in his arms and the wet kisses she presses against his own flesh, regularly sending fresh shivers down his spine with a teasing edge of teeth.

He can't see or taste the bite he has left on her neck, doesn't dare to deliberately try and find it again, but he knows it is _there_. Knows _exactly_ where it is. That he drew blood –can still taste its iron on his tongue– and with her disinclination to seek immediate treatment, it might even _scar_.

Tobirama shudders against Izuna's body, viscerally aware of how it makes her cling and tremble around him in return. The thought of putting a permanent, _visible_ mark on Izuna…

Oh. How he _wants_.

* * *

It rains all day; Izuna leaves only briefly in the morning then comes back with a silk project of some kind and settles in the tatami room to keep him company. Tobirama also settles in for a quiet day indoors, getting out his weaving stand and some silks; he wants to try and make a wider belt cord this time.

It's as he moves across the tatami to collect his teacup that he catches a glimpse of the back of Izuna's neck; her head is bent over her work and her hair is neatly tied up, the collar of her yellow kimono slightly lower than usual, revealing–

Tobirama swallows hard, unable to drag his eyes away from the two lines of little fresh pink marks and faded bruising over her spine just below her hairline. Yori could have healed it more than that, he's _sure_. But Izuna evidently didn't _want_ her to.

Izuna _wants_ people to see that he closed his teeth over her neck and drew blood. That she let him close enough to potentially _rip her throat out_ and he instead left marks that make it _very clear_ that he was doing something _very different_ at the time.

He still doesn't know how he feels about last night. About the fact that Izuna was helpless and vulnerable in his arms and he took advantage, then felt _bad_ about taking advantage. That she then wasn't _angry_ with him for taking advantage.

Actually, what's _upsetting_ about last night is that she _expected_ him to take advantage. That she didn't leave the Diplomatic Quarters or even borrow a sleeping yukata, conscious that he _might well_ try to take advantage of her. Tobirama doesn't like that. Doesn't like that she thinks that of him.

Doesn't like that she was _right_.

However. How that _expectation_ of his lack of self-control meshes with her calling him 'husband' in her sleep…

Tobirama takes his tea and retreats in confusion back to his braiding.

The steady twist and tug of silk steadies him, and after a few runs through the pattern Tobirama finds himself edging cautiously back to Izuna's unconscious addressing him as 'husband,' prodding at it gently like a tender tooth.

Among shinobi both husband and wife are equals, retaining full bodily autonomy. Practically speaking because attempting otherwise would lead to a demolished home, injured bystanders and potentially a crater in the landscape, along with two dead shinobi; just because only one of the two might be suited to the battlefield does _not_ mean that spouse will emerge victorious in a domestic spat.

However Tobirama knows that among civilians it is not reliably so. Among farmers, perhaps; domestic strife can ruin a household that needs the labour of both partners and their children to run smoothly. But for wealthy merchants, townsmen and the nobility? Often there to be a wife is to be chattel, bodily autonomy not an unthinking assumption but dependent on relative status compared to one's husband.

A wealthy heiress with a lower-status husband is far more likely to retain bodily autonomy than a young beauty wedded to a powerful nobleman; Tobirama knows this because there have been missions to such households where their client's wife flinched internally from her husband and the man never noticed. Or worse, saw and did not care.

It is still better than a household where a man's _daughters_ flinch and the wife cringes helplessly within a numb shell; Tobirama had been… possibly less than attentive in his patrolling there, and had been so careless as to train where the young ladies of the house could see how he held a kunai, miming careful strikes against a tree standing in as an opponent both facing him and restraining him from behind. He doesn't know if it helped, but the rumours of the man's death reached the Senju six months after the end of that short bodyguarding mission, so regardless of whether it was done in-house or hired out, the women are now free. Freer.

So. Izuna is shinobi, a battlefield shinobi even, so would expect a _husband_ to treat her as equal and partner. She is also a very highly-ranked member of the nobility, so assumes to exercise _social_ authority over a spouse; not even her own father truly outranks her, nonsensical though that is. However she is also a _noblewoman_ , so despite having _attained_ high rank somehow, she will likely have been _raised_ to expect a husband to have authority _over_ her. Over her body, if perhaps not her political standing or her clan.

Tobirama can see vaguely that the necessity of heirs for the clan intersects with this… expectation? Surrender? Reduced assumption of bodily autonomy following marriage, either way. He doesn't know how Izuna feels _personally_ about having children, as she's never actually discussed that. Her pregnancy has only been spoken of in the context of _necessity_. For her brother, for ensuring her father writes to the daimyo of her marriage, for the Uchiha clan's future.

Does she _want_ to have children? Tobirama doesn't know. He's honestly a little afraid to ask; what if she _doesn't?_ What is he supposed to _do_ with that knowledge?

He pauses in his braiding to sip his tea; speculation won't do him any good. He can ask Izuna those questions later, at a time when doing so will not make a pleasant morning indoors unnecessarily awkward, and then he will _know_ because Izuna will _tell_ him, or at least give some indication of whether she's considered the issue before now.

Back to the matter of husbands.

The Uchiha legal code makes it clear that forcing oneself on another is a death sentence, but that doesn't mean the line can't be a bit blurred in a marital context. In fact it's fairly clear the line _is_ blurred in a marital context, both considering his concubinage and that Izuna didn't seem _surprised_ that he'd indulged himself in her body while she was sleeping beside him.

Also that she'd previously indicated she would not object to his doing so.

So. He knows there _is_ a line, somewhere. But it's not where he was _expecting_ it to be, seeing as it apparently allows for him taking his pleasure from Izuna when she is not in a state to offer clear consent. So he is going to have to ask and find out.

Especially since the ambiguity as to boundaries could easily go both ways.

Husband. All these things are _relevant_ and _important_ , but they're peripheral. The thing he's trying to pin down right now is why the word Izuna clearly _wants_ to use to define his relationship with her is 'husband,' as opposed to 'concubine,' which is the _accurate_ word.

Well, why she wants to use that word _now_. At the start she was perfectly comfortable calling him her concubine, but now she rarely uses it and generally defaults to either his name or 'treasure.'

There being a progression and change suggests that this wasn't _planned_. Which is good, because if Izuna _had_ planned to fall in love with him he'd lose much of his respect for her; it would be _vastly_ impractical and also foolish. She was _probably_ planning for an amicable détente between them, possibly even camaraderie and actual friendship. She's been very clear about wanting him to take on her vision for peace, so he can probably put the baseline for her intended relationship with him as 'allies.'

That's good. It's practical, realistic and most importantly, achievable. She has in fact achieved that already; if that was all they were, Tobirama would not actually _mind_. But what they have has somehow slid _beyond_ that and he is now struggling for clarity and guidance.

Patience. He knows where _some_ of the boundaries are, at least: when he asked Izuna what she wanted from him, she said 'anything you give freely and kindly.' So that _is_ a boundary: she does not want him to feel overtly coerced, but also will not accept anything he does in an attempt to consciously harm her. Or, potentially, that will harm _him_.

Very well; that is a solid, reassuring boundary. Also it might explain why the fuuinjutsu on him did _not_ maim him for his audacity last night: he was not trying to harm her. He was thoughtless perhaps, certainly over-eager, but he was neither unwilling nor cruel.

Izuna cares deeply for him and did not _intend_ to do so. She has thrown her heart at his feet and doesn't seem to realise that he's noticed. But she could do that _without_ her heart and sleeping mind choosing the word 'husband' for him, so these are two related but not entirely overlapping issues. Her loving him means she wants him to love her _back_ , even though she's likely never going to confess or ask him that.

For a range of perfectly sensible reasons, not all of them relating to his captivity.

The husband issue likely relates to equality, Tobirama decides eventually, tying off the end of the braided belt. Izuna _did_ say very early on that she considers him her equal, both on the battlefield and off it, so despite their relationship being _officially_ unequal, she evidently _thinks_ of him as an equal. Hence the repeated slip of the tongue in terminology when less than fully conscious.

That's a _good_ thing. It gives him leverage and leeway, that his wife does not see him as property and plaything but as a warrior and equal. She will keep him informed, listen to him and seriously consider his perspective and opinions, as well as grant him freedoms others might consider unnecessary.

He won't comment on it; better to let it lie than to bring it to her attention and potentially prompt her to try and adjust her perspective, seeing as the oversight is to his advantage. The matter of bedroom boundaries he will bring up in the afternoon, and depending on how the conversation falls out, perhaps the matter of children as well.


	24. Chapter 24

In the early afternoon Izuna puts away her odd-looking craft project –which involves silk thread and thin wooden pins, but seems to be forming a loop of variously dense mesh rather than anything that qualifies as a proper weave– and produces a ceramic bottle painted with a spray of plum blossom; the promised liquor-less plum, proof of her success in separating out the alcohol. He is learning not to doubt the Uchiha's use of fuuinjutsu for more mundane purposes, but it is not at all like how the Uzumaki do such things.

"You mentioned an interest," she says, also producing a pair of little cups and a dish of arare, "but I'm not sure how you feel about sweet-sour foods."

"They are not unpleasant," Tobirama says, setting his reading aside; the advantage of reading the court texts today is that if he gets stuck he can ask Izuna to explain things to him, which she has thus far had no difficulty doing. It also means that, while sparse, there _has_ been conversation between them since he put away his weaving stand. "I'd like to try a cup, at least." At least it not being alcoholic means that if he _doesn't_ like it, he knows it's to do with the taste not the bite of the liquor.

Izuna pours him a cup of the golden liquid; Tobirama takes the bottle and pours her a cup in turn, then sets the bottle down and cautiously sips his portion. The sweet is initially overwhelming and the following burst of sour is all the more potent for it, but he doesn't _dislike_ it. He takes another careful sip, conscious of Izuna eyeing him.

"Are you hoping that I _will_ like it, or that I _won't?"_ He asks teasingly, taking a few arare; she's made it clear she's very fond of umeshu, so his not finding it to his tastes means more for her.

Izuna giggles behind a hastily-raised sleeve. "Well if you _like_ it I am reassured that you have _taste,_ " she says, easily teasing him back, "but if you don't, then all the more for me as I deplore your unrefined palate!"

Tobirama reaches out and prods her in the ribs as he takes another sip. It's unfamiliar, but it _is_ growing on him; certainly more pleasant than his uncles' shōchū and more interesting than regular sake. The sour bite forces him to take his time, drawing out the experience.

"I like it," he decides when he has finished his cup. Izuna beams, chakra equally radiant, and pours him another cupful; Tobirama reciprocates.

"A man of discerning taste!" His wife exclaims cheekily, picking up her cup and toasting him with it, then shuffling hastily out of his reach with a handful of arare as he tries to poke her again. Tobirama contemplates putting his cup down to give chase, then decides against it.

"Maybe next time you should bring me regular umeshu, so I don't drink all your liquor-less plum," he suggests dryly, taking some more arare himself. Izuna only has a limited quantity of her purified umeshu, so he wouldn't want to drink half of it when it's very clearly a favourite of hers.

Izuna sips her drink and raises an eyebrow at him. "My concubine wishes to get drunk?"

Tobirama hesitates. That was _not_ what he meant, but…

His wife grins at him. "My concubine perhaps wishes to be taken advantage of _while_ drunk?" She wiggles her eyebrows, chakra playful and tone entirely unserious.

Tobirama's drunk sake before; leaning to consciously burn it out of his system was an important lesson in his early teens, so he could keep his head at negotiations where drinking is compulsory or not look out of place when waiting or spying in a bar or other drinking establishment. But he can't do that _now_ , and he honestly has no _idea_ how he'd react to drinking to excess; this is _not_ a good place for learning that lesson, frankly. And yet…

"If I _did_ want to get drunk, would you make sure I didn't do anything stupid?"

Izuna softens. "Of course I would, Treasure." Her smile turns wry. "I wouldn't let you hurt yourself, or me, although I would _happily_ regale you with all your drunken idiocy afterwards."

"I would expect no less," Tobirama shoots back dryly, sipping the plum syrup. "But not now, and not soon."

She nods easily, letting him set the subject aside. "You only have to ask, Treasure."

That reminds him of the _other_ questions he wants to ask. "Izuna?"

"Yes, Treasure?"

"Do you _want_ to have children?"

Izuna sets her cup aside and smiles at him, warm and soft and _brilliant_ as her chakra shivers with the intensity of her feelings. "Very much," she says quietly. " _So_ much. But it's not something to undertake alone."

Tobirama easily deduces what she means there; she wants to know if _he_ has ever put thought into raising children, or if he even _wants_ to. But he's already made this promise. "I said I would be a father to the children you intend to take in," he reminds her; "why would that change when they are the children of your body?"

Children of _Tobirama's_ body as well. She's pregnant with _his_ child and it already shows in her scent; oh, Tōka was _right_ to warn him but it's rather _too_ late to worry about that now.

Izuna's smile deepens, tattoo scrunching and joy fizzing in her chakra. "It's good to confirm such things," she murmurs, picking up her drink for another sip.

That was easier than he'd thought it might be; thus encouraged, Tobirama moves on to his more complicated question:

"Last night, we were at cross-purposes," he begins carefully, "and I think we had different ideas of what we were both consenting to. Can you explain to me _why_ you weren't upset with my making free with your body, despite my not obtaining your consent beforehand?"

Izuna opens her mouth, pauses, sips her drink to fill the moment and then sets the cup down, absently drumming fingertips on the tatami. "This is difficult to articulate," she says slowly, "because my own mother has been dead thirteen years now, and my aunt and uncle –Hikaku-kun's parents– for seven. What I was taught of marriage and marital intimacy is therefore learned from my other aunt –my father's sister– who has been married herself barely five years, and gave me this lesson _before_ that. So I am perhaps a little behind the times, as this is doubtless the lesson my grandmother gave her only daughter."

Tobirama realises abruptly that he has had _many_ more living aunts, uncles and close cousins than Izuna to model marriage to him; some of his aunts are widowed, but still that is more choices than Izuna has. He may have to take the lead when it comes to negotiating boundaries and other related matters; she is likely less aware of the different ways things can be done.

"So," Izuna continues carefully, "my understanding of the boundaries of intimacy is as follows: when in my own bed, my boundaries are paramount; nobody may trespass there without my explicit permission, and they may not impose upon me without making abundantly clear beforehand what it is they desire, so that I can choose whether or not to indulge the request. Because it is _my_ bed, and _my_ space." She pauses. "As the fusuma room here is _your_ space, with _your_ bed, and I will not _ever_ impose on you without your express agreement, though I may request your permission to do so."

Tobirama nods; he appreciates having this boundary clarified, as it lays several worries very firmly to rest. The Uchiha legal code leaves the details of boundaries between married couples tactfully implied, despite being contrastingly clear on the penalties for _violating_ those boundaries.

"Conversely," his wife goes on, "If I am in my _spouse's_ bed, by relinquishing my own space I am in part submitting to _their_ desires. By making that choice, I accept that I am making _their_ desires my priority. I still have a degree of autonomy and if they wish to do more or differently than usual they should still ask, but the usual kinds of things, the things that we are both comfortable with and engage in without truly asking anymore because we both know what is acceptable to the other and what is not? Those are implied. By leaving my own space and placing myself within my spouse's private space, I am consenting to them."

So by placing herself in _his_ bed, Izuna is _consenting_ to… Tobirama swallows dryly, then hastily takes another sip of his plum. "What if you and your spouse _share_ a bed?" He asks, wanting to know how this breaks down without the assumption of separate spaces.

Izuna frowns slightly, then snorts, rueful amusement rippling through her chakra. "Ironically, that was never expected to be relevant for me," she says wryly: "As Amaterasu Head –which I have been since rather _before_ I got this talk– I get a house with a bedroom for each spouse, so how people in other circumstances manage this was never relevant enough to come up. I assume they negotiate on a case-by-case basis, or else set a level of mutual intimacy they are comfortable with and then if they're not up for that on a specific occasion, verbalise that it's an exception."

"And if you have _two_ spouses?" Tobirama is acutely conscious that he is 'just' a concubine, no matter that Izuna might feel otherwise about him. She _could_ also take a husband, should there be an Uchiha willing to accept her keeping a Senju on the side. Which is not out of the question, considering how beloved she seems to be by her clan. To have convinced them of her ideas, to have been given the space to see those ideas to fruition for the benefit of the clan, she must indeed be much loved.

Izuna eyes him with a lopsided smile. "Then I extend the building, of course." She sips her drink, perfectly placid and chakra faintly smug.

The implication being, if at some point in the future he _is_ living in her home and she _does_ later marry again, he will _not_ find himself banished back to the Diplomatic Quarters. Or necessarily even moved to other rooms.

"Does that cover everything you wished to know?" His wife asks, looking up at him again.

"For the time being," Tobirama decides, setting his empty cup down. "Wait, I _do_ have another question."

Izuna hums expectantly.

"Has Madara-san returned yet?" He _has_ noticed the underlying ongoing tension around the clan compound, and the only reason it's not also evident today is that it's raining so he's indoors, as will most other people be. Some will doubtless be out in their coats, but only if they have a pressing need to do so and the work cannot wait; there is not likely to be any movement where he can see it though.

Izuna shuffles closer again and pours him some more plum, then takes some more arare. "He and the Squad returned early this morning; I suspect they're all still sleeping off their run."

Tobirama takes the bottle from her and pours the last of the not-liquor into her cup; not enough in the bottle overall to get them _both_ drunk even if it was alcoholic then, but certainly enough to loosen them up were that the case. Not near as much as the bottle could hold either; evidently Izuna has very cautious and responsible drinking habits. Much better than the way some of his uncles and older cousins are about alcohol, which has taught Hashirama some very _bad_ habits.

"I am glad to hear it," he says, meeting his wife's eyes. "I know the wider clan will be greatly reassured."

"It's been… some time since anybody dared to try this," Izuna says quietly, steadying her cup with both hands but not picking it up. "Before Madara was born, in fact. I hope it will be an equally long time before the next attempt."

Her cold certainty that there _will_ be a next attempt is profoundly disquieting; is this what it means to belong to a clan with such an obvious kekkai-genkai? To _always_ be aware that somebody might murder you just to mutilate your body afterwards? There have been a few attempts on Hashirama, but they were seduction attempts not outright violence.

"With the example that has no doubt been made, future thieves will certainly think twice," he offers, feeling a little awkward. He is not good at comforting people. It's not a skill he's had much reason to use since his little brothers died.

"Thank you, Tobirama," Izuna says softly, smiling gratefully at him and picking up her drink.

Well then. Maybe he's not _that_ bad at it after all.

* * *

Izuna demonstrates the impermeable fuuinjutsu before taking him out of the Diplomatic Quarters: it makes the silk of the kimono act like an oil-paper umbrella, water sliding off and mopped-up stains vanishing entirely. It's a terribly frivolous bit of work and entirely unsuitable in the long run –it makes the dragon-embroidered kimono and reversed crab-damask obi impossible to launder– but it still makes Tobirama feel warm and faintly smug. Izuna has done this purely because he _asked_.

His wife is very finely dressed herself, clad in a sparrow-green visiting kimono with rather generous hanging sleeves, damasked with feathers and painted and embroidered with vivid phoenixes and chrysanthemums, with a good quantity of real gold among the other colours. She's also wearing her coat over the top, slung over her shoulders rather than worn properly, and the under-layers peeking out at her throat are rich red and creamy white, also subtly patterned.

"I have a meeting with my fellow Lineage Heads," she says in response to his raised eyebrow, handing him the oak-leaf-painted umbrella as they step out of the genkan. "Nothing terribly official, but seeing as peace is currently looking more likely than not, I think they want reassurance that I have some kind of plan for the future for them to nitpick and improve upon."

Tobirama snorts at the idea that her clan elders could _improve_ on the scheme which she has entangled their clans in. Make more socially palatable, oh yes easily; however that would also make it less _effective_. Izuna does not hide away the realities behind flattering words, nor does she insert ambiguity in an attempt to win more hearts to her cause. Instead it is _with_ the truth that those hearts are won.

She nudges him with an elbow. "Come on Treasure, nobody's infallible. I might have missed _something_."

Tobirama very pointedly rolls his eyes as she steps through the garden gate and turns to offer him a hand through the barrier. "If you left something out," he says dryly, "it's because you _decided_ it wasn't important enough to include."

Izuna whips out a fan to hide the lower half of her face behind, eyes and tattoo crinkling up in well-contained glee above the monocrome painting of a semi-familiar mountain beside a haiku written in flowing, stylised characters. "Treasure!" She remonstrates in mock-horror. "Let a lady have _some_ secrets!"

He smirks at her as he steps over the threshold, rolling the umbrella lightly on his shoulder. "What's in it for me, Lord-Wife?"

"I am being extorted," Izuna bemoans, chakra light and playful. "Blackmailed, even! What will my concubine demand of me in exchange for his silence?"

Tobirama hums thoughtfully as Izuna leads him off to wherever his visiting will be taking place today. "So many possibilities," he teases, keeping his voice deep and quiet. "Do I want clothing, sexual favours, food, furniture, ornaments?"

"My concubine's evil scheme to defeat me; reducing me to destitution to pay for his expensive tastes," Izuna laments theatrically, closing her fan and pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "Woe to the Uchiha! Woe!"

"My Lord-Wife," Tobirama says primly, doing his best to smother his burgeoning grin, "knew _exactly_ what she was getting herself into."

"Well, yes," Izuna agrees, lowering her hand and flicking open the fan again below her chin. "And it's not like you can _make_ me spend money on you, Treasure."

"So you have only yourself to blame," Tobirama agrees, giving up on hiding his amusement and smirking happily at her. "And I've decided what I want."

"So what is the price of your silence then, Treasure?" Izuna demands laughingly, fanning herself. "A belt of matched pearls from Water Country? Earth Country violet jade? A wrap of Lightning Country cashmere, soft as a cloud and in seven different colours? A sandalwood chest from Moon Country?"

All shockingly expensive things that Tobirama does not actually have a frame of reference for the prices of, because they are _so_ expensive that he's never been in a position to so much as _consider_ buying them. "I'll keep those in mind for next time," he teases her, "but for today I want something a bit more _personal_."

Izuna fans herself some more, making steady and anticipatory eye-contact as they turn between a pair of farm-houses. "What would please my concubine today then?"

"I want," Tobirama drawls, drawing out the moment, "you to cook me a meal, Lord-Wife. The work of your own two hands, just for me." He doesn't even know if she _can_ cook, but given her many other skills it seems likely she at least has the basics. If not, she can always use that cheating bloodline of hers to learn to prepare a single meal in a day and present him with the results.

Izuna's eyes widen and the fan snaps up so she's barely peeking over the top, chakra hot with a mix of wonder, fear and desire. "This one regrets to inform Tobirama-san that her kitchen skills are indifferent at best," she murmurs, suddenly shy as they reach the edge of a group of fields.

Tobirama meets her eyes steadily and lifts their joined hands to his mouth, delicately kissing her scarred knuckles. "This one," he replies softly, "is well aware of where his wife's focus and talents lie. But would be delighted nonetheless to be presented with a meal she has cooked for him, and him alone."

Izuna _trembles_ , closing the fan and letting it fall to tap her thigh, the open, vulnerable expression on her face exposed in full. "I will prepare a meal for you tomorrow then, Treasure," she agrees, elation and nervousness all tangled up in her chakra under a thin layer of imposed calm. Tobirama places the hand gripping his on his shoulder, steps closer –close enough to feel his obi brush against hers– and catches her chin, crossing the scant distance between their faces for a tender and lingering kiss.

A wife cooks for a husband. A wife does _not_ cook for a concubine; if anything it should be _him_ cooking for _her_. But his situation means that it is vanishingly unlikely he will be allowed into a kitchen –knives and fire and so many ways to poison people– and Izuna has made it clear she _thinks_ of him as a husband. Tobirama is not too proud to take advantage of that; nor can he claim that seeing his wife's utter self-possession abandon her completely in the face of his request is anything but satisfying. Pettily satisfying in a superficial sense, but also deeply, viscerally satisfying in a more profound way.

He has asked for something, and Izuna does not want to disappoint him. Her father's contempt does not move her and neither does her older brother's dismay, but she wants _Tobirama_ to respond positively to her choices and gifts. He has leverage that her own kin do not, because she wants his cooperation in her schemes for peace and has given him her heart besides.

So much power, so freely given. Such terrible temptation, and yet he must be careful lest he run up against the boundaries duty has set for both of them; it would not do to remind her that he is her enemy and bound to oppose her in every way he can.

"Will you be fetching me for lunch at noon, Izuna?" He asks when he finally steps away from her, deliberately omitting all honorifics and letting his voice caress her name as it passes his lips.

"I can do so, Treasure," she replies, eyes dark and cheeks faintly pink. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to eat?"

Tobirama decides to tease. "I'd like to eat in the persimmon orchard again."

Izuna whacks his shoulder lightly with her furled fan. "Terrible. Shameless," she deadpans, grinning. "Very well then."

Tobirama smirks back at her, not remotely intimidated or inclined to flinch from the perfunctory blows. "Don't bother with more than one pair of chopsticks."

Izuna lightly whacks him with her fan again, shaking her head and grinning still as she takes him by the hand and leads him down between the fields towards another well-spaced grove of trees, these ones plums covered in unripe fruit.

There are a dozen children at _least_ under the trees now, all having miraculously appeared in between Tobirama turning to kiss his wife and the current moment. Three older children are laying out a blanket, there's an older toddler –possibly a four-year-old– carrying a basket almost as big as he is across the grass, five maybe-six-year-olds are chasing each-other around the outside of the trees and a small cluster on the far side of the grove have just produced a loop of rope and are setting up a skipping game.

Tobirama hopes very much he's not being expected to keep _everybody_ in line. There are a lot more children here than he was expecting.

"Don't worry," Izuna says, glancing back at him and demonstrating that she can read him _far_ too well even without looking at him, "Midori-chan's in charge." She points at the older girl at the near end of the blanket, who has a toddler strapped to her back. The girl can't be more than ten, but she seems to be comfortably on top of things. "You're the guest."

"And also the entertainment," Tobirama judges shrewdly.

Izuna chuckles. "Were you expecting any less?"

"Honestly, no."

"Well then, I can't see a problem here; can you?"

Tobirama tugs her arm so he can put his mouth right by her ear, the faint pink marks on the back of her neck catch his eye before he drags his attention back to the present. "You, wife," he says darkly, "should come with a warning attached."

"What, like you should?" Izuna tosses over her shoulder at him.

"It takes one to know one," Tobirama shoots back as they arrive at the entrance of the plum orchard.

* * *

Noon finds him sitting in the shade with Midori-chan's year-and-a-half old baby sister Kinu asleep and drooling into a cloth draped over on one shoulder, two-year-old Kiso-kun tucked into the crook of the other elbow and leaning into him, possibly also asleep –Tobirama can't actually tell– and an attentive audience of five clustered around him, eyes unwavering as he tells the story of the grumpy wisteria tree for the fourth time.

It may just be Tekari-kun, Minakata-kun, Ko-Midori-chan –who is four, as opposed to Midori-chan the ten-year-old running this babysitting picnic– Kagutsuchi-kun and adorably serious little Yari-chan who is Kiso-kun's age who are staring attentively at his face and hands as he gestures along to the only slightly dramatised story of Anija's many, many failures to win so much as a new leaf from the aged and stubborn tree, but Tobirama knows the older children are listening too. Maybe not for the first telling, but they've drifted closer since to catch the details.

Midori-chan is walking up and down the orchard with a now-hiccupping Ogura-kun, who is only just a year old, humming a tune and taking swaying sideways steps that make it clear the tune in question is a dance; she is however keeping an eye on him and so is the ten-year-old boy with the catlike stare that the others addressed as 'Maru-kun' but whose name could feasibly be much longer than that. Uchiha seem to be somewhat odd in their naming scheme, most noticeably when it comes to the name Naka; he's heard several variations with different words substituted for regular honorifics.

Some of the skippers have settled down with a few of the tag-players to play with dolls, Naka-Stitches –and how a six-year-old gets a nickname like that Tobirama has no idea– Yutaka-chan, Tomamu-kun and Miwa-chan all getting along reasonably quietly together, and the other children in the vaguely five-to-seven age group are ostensibly braiding grass stalks and wrestling, but are actually listening to the story he is telling.

Tobirama is pitching his voice so that Urakura-kun, Naosuke-kun, Onigajo-kun, Iwahashi-kun, Izumi-chan and Tara-chan can hear as well, so as to leave Hide-chan free to watch over the other three infants in hers and Midori-chan's care. Possibly 'Maru-kun' is also theoretically responsible, but he is sprawled in the grass staring at Tobirama and has not uttered a single word, so is not being particularly helpful.

Although when Midori put one of the babies on the silent ten-year-old earlier he _did_ hold them appropriately, so perhaps the two girls consider that sufficient. It might be all that is expected from 'Maru,' who could well be one of those children born with something amiss in their brain that not even Senju medics can remedy. If so, he is fortunate to be alive; the Senju give those children peace while they are still small, so they are not a burden on the clan through being unable to work or care for themselves.

"And then my Anija pushed his chakra into the tree," Tobirama says dramatically, drawing out the pause as his audience lean in, "and… nothing happened."

His audience giggles into their hands.

"So he tried again! He was determined! He would get flowers for the festival!" Tobirama continues, gesturing extravagantly, "He tried really, really, _really_ hard…" more giggles, "and _still_ nothing happened. The wisteria tree did not put out so much as a single new leaf." Tobirama pouts, sagging. "And my Anija wailed and moaned and stomped off in a huff to find different flowers, defeated by a tree."

It's not just his immediate audience giggling now.

"And then, a little while later as I sat under the tree drinking my ama-cha," Tobirama goes on, opening up his hands in imitation of flowers opening, "the wisteria tree put out _whole fronds_ of lovely purple blossoms for me to pick. But my Anija didn't get anything, because he was _rude_ and the tree didn't like him."

Little Yari-chan giggles so hard into her hands she topples over; Minakata-kun deliberately throws himself onto his back and whoops loudly. Across the orchard 'Maru-kun' rises abruptly to his feet.

"Lunchtime," he announces loudly, to _instant_ chaos. Tobirama drags still-giggling Yari-chan into his lap so she doesn't get _trampled_ by the rush out of the orchard, every three- or four-year-old grabbed by the hand by a six- or seven-year old. In seconds there's just the three ten-year-olds, Tobirama and the infants and toddlers left; even the basket of balls and dolls has vanished.

"Maru-kun," Midori-chan says, utterly disapproving. The boy looks utterly unrepentant. The older girl hands him the still-hiccupping baby she is holding and turns to Tobirama. "Tobirama-san. Can you help us carry the littles home? Seeing as Maru-kun didn't catch Naka-Stitches _or_ Tara-chan."

Tobirama hesitates. On the one hand, they very clearly _need_ the help seeing as there are four infants and four toddlers to corral and only three of them, not one older than ten. On the other, he _still_ cannot navigate the Uchiha compound and doesn't even know if he can leave this little orchard without Izuna leading him by the hand. It would be unwise to wander where he shouldn't and draw the ire of the Uchiha clan onto himself. "Might we wait for Izuna-san to come to fetch me?" He offers. "It will not be very long, and then she can help as well."

"That's a good idea," Hide-chan says brightly. "Midori-chan, I'll help you get Kinu-chan on your back again."

* * *

Izuna thankfully arrives very promptly and does not hesitate to pick up both an infant and little Yari-chan, leaving Tobirama with Kiso-kun to perch on his hip. However Maru-kun then tries to hand him the hiccupping Ogura-kun and Tobirama experiences a moment of dismay.

He is _very sure_ that no Uchiha mother will be _pleased_ to see him holding their baby.

"I think you should keep Ogura-kun, Maru-kun," Tobirama says firmly. "I will carry Tekari-kun." The three-year-old is bouncing impatiently as he waits for his older sister to get everybody else in order, and at Tobirama's words turns to pout.

"Don't _want_ to be carried!"

"Well you can hold hands then, Tekari-kun," Izuna says, a welcome voice of reason. "I don't want Tobirama-san getting lost and he doesn't know the compound very well yet."

Tekari is immediately all smiles again, bounding across the grass to grab Tobirama's free hand as Hide-chan glares at Maru-kun for trying to offload the baby and Izuna somehow boosts Yari-chan up onto her shoulders with one hand, the toddler giggling excitedly at suddenly being so high up, then takes the last infant off Midori-chan.

"You're already carrying Kinu-chan, Midori-sprout," Tobirama's wife teases gently, expertly cradling an infant in each arm while the toddler on her shoulders coos happily, stuck in place with judicious use of chakra. "Let me do some of the heavy lifting, hn?" She turns back to Tobirama, smiles and lets her eyes drop to Tekari. "Got my treasure safe there, Tekari-kun?"

The three-year-old nods rapidly. "Hn! All safe," he assures her seriously, tugging lightly on Tobirama's hand. "I won't let go!"

"Thank you Tekari-kun, that's very reassuring." Izuna turns to Midori-chan. "So, where to first?"

First turns out to be Yari-chan's parents, then a confusing meander through the residential district to hand over the various infants, ending with a fairly large house with a shop-front and built into the side of a warehouse, quite close to the river and the Outguard Hall, the door to which is opened by an elderly lady with white-streaked hair and deep wrinkles.

"Ah, Midori-chan!" She exclaims. "And Hide-chan and Tekari-kun and Kinu-chan as well, how wonderful." Maru-kun vanished at some point after handing off the still-fussing Ogura-kun to Izuna once her own small burdens had been given back to their parents, but none of the rest of the party seemed to mind so Tobirama hasn't commented on it.

Izuna laughs at being so pointedly omitted. "And what am I, Kiwami-baa, chopped liver? Here's Ogura-kun." She hands over the infant, who takes it reasonably gracefully.

"I did not entrust my great-grandson to _you_ this morning, Izuna-bi!" Kiwami-san teases, accepting the baby and kissing his forehead. "But he's evidently come to no harm, so Midori-chan's trust was not misplaced." Her eyes drift over to Tobirama; no, to Kiso-kun sat on his hip. "Are you taking your little cousin today then? My granddaughter-in-law can keep Kei-chan until she's weaned, but you know she's expecting another child come the winter."

Izuna turns to look at Tobirama, eyebrow raised in inquiry. Tobirama looks down at Kiso-kun, who has spent the entire morning sat next to him save when enlisting an older child to help him wee in the ditch edging the orchard and has not uttered a single sound in his hearing. The toddler looks up at him, eyes large and dark in a round face under short, spiked hair.

Small children don't have much chakra at all, but Kiso-kun has enough for Tobirama to get a feel for his emotions: he hurts, and something about Tobirama's presence reminds him enough of his own lost family that he doesn't particularly want to let go.

If he agrees to this, that _will_ be it. Regardless of how things go with Izuna, he _cannot_ abandon the toddler and he will _never_ be allowed to remove Kiso-kun from clan grounds; even _attempting_ it would get him hunted down and various freedoms revoked. He knows this, knows that caring for a child he has _personally_ orphaned can only bring him grief, difficulties and painful confessions in the future. And yet this silent dark-eyed toddler calls to him, somehow.

Is it that the shape of those ink-black eyes reminds him of Kawarama?

Tōka would put her head in her hands if she could see him; she was right, it _is_ a child that ensnares him. But it's not even _his_ child.

"I'll keep him."

Kiwami-san raises a distasteful eyebrow in his peripheral vision, radiating disapproval and shock, but Izuna just nods, accepting his commitment. "Kiwami-baa, can you get me Kiso-kun's things and let Obihiro-kun know to rearrange the finances accordingly?"

The elderly lady pauses for a long moment, then nods measuredly. "At your command, Izuna-sama." She vanishes back into the house with the baby.

Tekari-kun looks up at Tobirama. "Kiwami-baa doesn't want you to have Kiso-kun," he notes.

"No, she doesn't," Tobirama agrees, "but Izuna-san said so and Izuna-san is Kiso-kun's guardian."

"Why _doesn't_ she want you to have him? She just _said_ she wanted Izuna-tama to take him and you're Izuna-tama's con, cocu," Tekari frowns, struggling with the word 'concubine'.

"I am Izuna-san's spouse," Tobirama agrees, offering an easier word.

"Yes! You're married, so _obviously_ if Izuna-tama takes Kiso-kun, you'll look after him."

Oh to be three years old and confident in how the world works. "Kiwami-san doesn't know me at all, Tekari-kun," Tobirama says gently, "and I wasn't born Uchiha. It is only proper for her to have misgivings about entrusting Kiso-kun to me." Never mind the _other_ reasons...

"Yes," Tekari agrees reluctantly, "that's true, but she should trust Izuna-tama too!"

"And that is why she is fetching Kiso-kun's things now, because she trusts Izuna-san."

Tekari considers this, then nods. "Good," he decides, evidently accepting this line of reasoning. For the time being at least; it may well come up again later.

Tobirama doesn't _want_ to explain to a three-year-old that he is _why_ Kiso-kun has no close family left beyond Izuna and her siblings plus an infant cousin. But he's not so short-sighted to not recognise that it _is_ probably going to come up at some point.

Kiwami-san emerges from the front door with a deep wicker basket; Tobirama can see the top edge of a rolled-up child's futon as well as tiny slippers, a stuffed dog and a few battered wooden toys piled on top of folded clothing and sheets. "This is everything; I'll have my grandson transfer his parents' things to your stewardship, Izuna-sama."

Izuna accepts the basket, balancing it on her own hip. "Thank you, Kiwami-baa. Please give Obihiro-kun and Shirushi-san my very best, and my thanks."

"Of course, Izuna-sama." The older woman remembers her manners and turns a smile on the girls. "And my thanks again to you both, for your care of my great-grandson."

With that Izuna gravely accepts Tobirama's hand from Tekari, the two girls corral the three-year-old and they go their separate ways for lunch. Tobirama follows silently, unable to quite get his head around the fact that he now has a toddler he is responsible for. Yes, he _had_ already committed to being a father to Kiso-kun, but that had been in the abstract near future.

It hadn't been _now_. Except it _is_ now, and he has committed himself.

Well, it looks like he is going to have to work out how to make peace _profitable_ for the Senju after all; Anija will be delighted. His father will _not_ , but Tobirama is well beyond his father's reach now, as well as beyond his authority. He still has a son's duty to his father, of course, and a kinsman's duty to his clan, but his father cannot _command_ him. Not now his status as an Uchiha concubine has been legally affirmed by the daimyo.

This is the bed Tobirama has made for himself, so he will have to lie in it and hope for the best.

* * *

Lunch is rice balls eaten on the engawa of the Diplomatic Quarters; probably not Izuna's original plan given his request that they eat together in the persimmon orchard, but suitable considering they have a toddler to feed as well. It makes him wonder how much food she habitually carries around on her person. Gentle encouragement prompts Kiso-kun to take both a daikon onigiri and a pork one; Tobirama and Izuna split the rest, Izuna initially giving Tobirama all the fish ones before he swaps a few of them for some of her various pickles.

He lets her keep the sukudani though, as he's not actually at all fond of those. Yes he likes fish, but _fresh_ fish or dried at best. Not preserved in so much soy sauce and mirin that it barely tastes of fish anymore.

After the meal Kiso-kun is easily coaxed into taking a nap in the fusuma room, his little futon set out beside Tobirama's, and then once his chakra and breathing have settled Tobirama is free to ask his questions.

Well, _would_ be free if he could think of what to say. Now Kiso-kun is asleep Tobirama is insistently reminded that he has _other_ duties, such as the duty to _escape_ if he can. Their clans are at _war_ and he can't let himself be used against his kin, married or not.

Except that the fuuinjutsu on his back makes escape _impossible_ and the only clash he's aware of between their clans in the past two months was Anija attacking Madara while on patrol. They're not at peace, there's not even an official ceasefire; yet the Uchiha have not moved on the Senju, nor the Senju on the Uchiha.

The feud doesn't feel inevitable anymore. Or appropriate. Or even _acceptable_. It was the feud that prompted him to slaughter Kiso-kun's family –his parents alongside his siblings and similarly-aged cousins– without a second thought; that led him to assume that any Uchiha he sensed could only be a warrior and a threat.

Led him to ignore that despite being the Senju's enemies, the Uchiha clan are also people; people who laugh and love and have elderly parents, people with small children that their deaths will orphan.

He presses his hands to his face.

"Treasure?"

"My cousin," Tobirama says through his hands, "was concerned that I'd get _attached_ to our unborn." He chokes through a laugh. "And here I am, having promised _three times over_ to parent an unrelated toddler in the week since her leaving."

"If you don't _want_ to–"

"No!" Tobirama interrupts, letting his hands drop so he can make eye-contact. "No, Izuna: I _do_ want to. That's, that's the _point_. I promised out of duty, yes," and partly out of pique, he can admit that much to himself, "but Kiso-kun is, he is," Tobirama finds himself at a loss for words.

"This is my fault," he manages after a pause. "And I can't fix it. But I want to do _something_. It's not _enough_ , but it's something. And I want to." He _does_.

"For yourself, or for him?"

Tobirama feels _seen_. How can she _do this_ to him?! Nobody has _ever_ been able to look at him and flay him open with words like this before, not even Tōka!

His eyes drop in shame. "It's not good that it's for me, is it."

"Honesty is important, Tobirama," Izuna says gently, moving closer so she can wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Right now, you are doing it for you. But keep in mind that parenting _should_ be for the child's benefit, not the parent's. You are not raising a child to show off how virtuous and noble you are, but because Kiso-kun is a person, a person who is inherently precious and loveable. Yes, you _can_ care for him out of duty, but he will _know_ if you do, and see himself as a burden."

Tobirama does not question how Izuna knows this. He can guess as to why, and seeing Kiwami-san earlier –however briefly– made it clear that the household Kiso-kun has just been removed from _did_ see him as a duty rather than a joy.

Izuna wants him to _love_ her little cousin. Tobirama doesn't dare admit out loud that doing so would be frighteningly easy.

"I will do my best to be gentle and attentive to his needs," he compromises feebly.

Izuna eyes him, gaze mild and far too knowing. "As you would have liked to be raised, Tobirama," is all she says, but it's enough.

It's more than enough; that's not a question Tobirama has ever _dared_ to ask himself before. The things that spring unavoidably to mind are not particularly _filial_ either.

He hurriedly changes the subject: "I know I cannot be given ink, but _surely_ there's some way I can take notes?"

Izuna gracefully follows his lead. "What do you want to take notes _for_ , Treasure?"

"What you said, about making peace profitable," Tobirama confesses awkwardly. "I want to work through my thoughts." And more than that; she's right that his clan _will_ listen to him, or at least will listen to Tōka and _she_ will listen to him. He should do what he can.

His wife beams at him, delight palpable. "I can fix that; would waxed boards and a stylus be enough?"

"That would be sufficient, thank you." A little awkward and slow, but he is grateful enough to get _any_ writing utensils to put up with that when ink and brush are firmly out of the question.

"Would you like me to fetch them now, or later?"

Tobirama hesitates. Manners say 'later,' but…

"You would like them now," Izuna observes, leaning in to kiss his cheek before letting go of him and getting to her feet. "I won't be a moment, Treasure."

"And tea?" Tobirama blurts out, caught between embarrassment and gratification.

She smiles softly. "And tea; remember you are _always_ free to ask, Tobirama."

"I will remember."


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends in a cliffhanger.

Hashirama dashes between the buildings, jumps across a herb garden, scoots around the corner of a house and bursts in through the front door of Tokonoma-ji and Sumai-ba's home, almost falling over in his haste to kick his sandals off and dump his weapons' scroll in the genkan. Shoving his feet into a pair of guest slippers, he dashes indoors without even announcing himself and stops dead on the threshold of the kitchen, staring in disbelieving joy.

His miraculously back-from-the-dead cousin sighs at him and pushes back her chair from the dining table. "C'mere, Hashi," she says, getting to her feet and holding out her arms. Hashirama _throws_ himself at her, lifting her off her feet in a tight hug and spinning her around; he vaguely hears the chair clattering to the floor behind him, something bouncing off his calf. Whoops!

"Air!" Tōka wheezes, pounding her fist on his armour. Hashirama remembers he's still _wearing_ his armour –and Tōka is just wearing a house kimono and he's covered in road dust– and quickly sets her back on her feet, nervously brushing off the dirt that has transferred over and straightening her sleeves. His cousin hits him again, but more fondly this time.

"Idiot; it doesn't matter."

Hashirama feels tears well up; he sniffs loudly, tries to rub his face on his sleeve and stops dead before he can poke himself in the eye with his armour. Tōka laughs at him, then starts undoing straps.

"Not in the kitchen!" Sumi-ba says firmly, waving a spoon at them without turning around from the stove. "Out!"

Hashirama laughs wetly, letting Tōka drag him back to the genkan and strip him out of his armour. It always goes faster with help.

"Tōka-nee, where _were_ you?" He asks as she shoves a handkerchief at him.

His cousin sighs, eyeing him as she unlaces his bracers. "With Tobirama; Izuna's got him locked down _tight_ , but also didn't want him going mad from the isolation. So she had Hi–the Deathblow bring me in as company."

"But you escaped?" Hashirama bites his lip. "Tobirama couldn't escape with you? Or did he make you leave while he was a distraction?" Madara had _promised_ Tobirama was fine, but just because he was _then_ doesn't mean he still is _now_. It's been _ages!_

"How long have you been away, Hashi?"

"Erm, almost two weeks?" Is this important? Has he missed something happening? Long missions often mean missing out on home-things but he can't help that, nobody can!

His cousin sighs. "Right; fine. Okay so, in order: Izuna's a woman."

Hashirama blinks twice, opens his mouth to object, pauses, closes it again and considers the world from this new angle. "Actually that explains a lot about Madara," he admits eventually. Not a younger brother, but a younger _sister_ to watch out for? No wonder he is so determined to protect her. But how did _Tobirama_ miss that? The coats do hide a lot but he knows his brother's a _really_ good sensor. Then again, if Izuna was taking extra precautions and Tobi didn't _think_ to look harder…

"It does, doesn't it?" Tōka says wryly. "Second thing: she dragged Tobirama off because she wants to have children with him."

Hashirama chokes on nothing, wheezes, coughs and bends double, sputtering. That is _not_ what he was expecting as a follow-up to Izuna being a women!

"Yes, that was basically my reaction," his cousin says, tone dry as a stony riverbed. " _Not_ because she's fallen madly in lust with him though; she wants to make sure when you're in charge of the clan you call off the feud for a bit, so as not to accidentally murder your nephews."

Oh. _Oh_ that would be _terrible_ and–! Hashirama straightens up, taking off the last of his armour and climbing out of the genkan again. "Is Tobirama okay?" He asks urgently, grabbing her hands.

"Yes, he's fine, I promise!" Tōka assures him hurriedly. "Cross as a wet cat about the whole business, but Izuna's sneaky: she got him to _agree_ to marry her by using me as leverage, but then let him set the pace." She rubs her elbow, faintly uneasy. "He likes her a _lot_ , Hashi. Really likes her as a person, not just enjoying the sex; he's not in love though, or he wasn't yet when I left."

"But you think he _will_ be," Hashirama deduces easily, frowning. He's happy for his brother if he is –could be– in love; he _is!_ But it's, she, the _circumstances_. His brother falling in love is better than marrying for duty, but this _wasn't_ something Tobi chose!

"She understands him, Hashi," his cousin admits quietly. "She gives him space, she has that same terrible sense of humour as he does and thinks the petty asshole behaviour is _funny_. Also, um," she scratches her elbow again, "she doesn't flinch at the teeth. At all. And there was fresh fish for breakfast _every day_."

Hashirama laughs, worry and relief mingling with amusement as his shoulders loosen. "Of course he'd delay escaping for fresh fish!"

Tōka grimaces. "Izuna's got fuuinjutsu on him, Hashi," she says quietly. "Invocation fuuinjutsu."

"That's bad," Hashirama guesses. He can't remember much of his lessons on identifying fuuinjutsu; it all looked the same to him. Tobirama's always been much better at it, but if he can't get it off he'd need an Uzumaki specialist in that specific field to help him.

"Very bad," Tōka agrees; "he didn't think anybody could get it off him except Izuna, because she was the one to put it on. And I checked with Mito; Invocation's finicky. That Izuna's made it work for her really isn't good news for us."

"So Izuna's married to Tobi now but she's keeping him locked up," Hashirama summarises, "but you escaped?"

Tōka sighs. "I think," she says quietly, "I was let go. I mean, nobody _helped_ me and I ran with two squads at my heels all the way to the nearest patrol, but I wasn't _attacked_ and that I was _able_ to leave in the first place has… implications. But if Izuna _did_ have a hand in ensuring I could get back here, she didn't get her father's permission for it."

"Izuna wants peace," Hashirama notes hopefully. It's why she took Tobi at all, even though she's holding him prisoner with fuuinjutsu. "Is that why she let you go, so you could tell the clan that?"

"More to confirm that Tobirama's fine and for goodwill, I think," Tōka replies, leaning into the wall. So Izuna's smart like Tobi is then? It's all schemes within schemes and plots hiding behind plots that he can't disentangle without his little brother pointing out all the layers to him and explaining the interactions with very small words.

"I spent two months with broken legs and bored half out of my skull," Tōka goes on, "but Izuna really could not cater to Tobi enough. Fancy tea, new clothes, fish every day –sometimes twice a day– stacks of impenetrable formal books to read… and _lots_ of sex."

Hashirama shuffles. "I… didn't think Tobi liked it that much?" He ventures cautiously, rubbing his neck under his hair. His brother is _not_ the most social of company, and has _never_ been fond of bought company. He'd thought it was the physical intimacy Tobi didn't like; his little brother is _very_ prickly about being hugged and sex is... more.

Tōka purses her lips. "I really couldn't answer that," she replies carefully, "but Tajima made Izuna getting pregnant a condition of him writing to the daimyo about the marriage, so the _only_ way to get word to the clan that he was alive was for her to get pregnant, because once the daimyo got a letter that the Uchiha Heiress had married the second son of Senju Butsuma, he'd write Uncle a letter congratulating him on his son's advancement."

Hashirama gnaws worriedly on his lower lip. "So Tobi felt he _had_ to get her pregnant?" That's not good. He knows his brother likes spending time with children and the leopards have been vocal about wanting him to have cubs they can dote on, but Tobirama's never had _anybody_ he so much as _thought_ about courting, not even when he was staying in Uzushio.

Tōka's eyes go flat. "I can _assure_ you," she says in dead tones, "that even on day _one_ he was enjoying himself. And by the end of _week_ one he'd stopped feeling guilty about enjoying himself." She pinches the top of her nose. "I do not _want_ to know as much as I do about my little cousin's sex life, Hashi! But trust me," she glares, "he's _really enjoying himself._ "

Hashirama chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck again. He's… not sure how to take that, honestly? He trusts Tōka! But Tobi… Tobi doesn't do things for himself like that without thinking about the consequences. He thinks too much to _not_ think about consequences! And his little brother _has_ to know that the consequences of having children with Uchiha Izuna are going to be… not great. Yes, if it means they get peace that _would_ be wonderful! But Hashirama isn't clan head, so he doesn't get to decide that. His father is still Head, and his father isn't _interested_ in peace. And he doesn't know what his father will _do_ if he finds out that he's going to have an Uchiha grandchild…

"But Tobi wouldn't do it _just_ because he's enjoying himself," he tries.

Tōka sags. "No, he wouldn't," she agrees tiredly. "But he _did_ want to get word to the clan as quickly as he could, which meant getting Izuna pregnant, seeing as back then we didn't know if I'd ever manage to escape, and also she likes him _back_ , which meant Tobirama decided that being willing to have sex often would persuade her to make concessions. Which he wasn't _wrong_ about."

"Concessions?" That sounds like Tobirama was being accomodating so Izuna would give him things?

Tōka shrugs one shoulder. "The books for one; I got novels to read, Tobi got court transcripts and a travel guide. Also a kokyū for me to play and basket-weaving lessons. He got fresh tea every day –proper sencha at that– a range of very nice clothes, conversation about just about anything he cared to mention, a _lot_ of information on how Uchiha do things and why and fuuinjutsu heating for the building we were locked inside." She pauses. "Izuna didn't make any of that _explicitly_ conditional on sex, to be clear, but Tobirama wanted to seem _willing_ , so she wouldn't put too much effort into blocking escape routes. Which _did_ eventually help me escape, and wouldn't have been possible otherwise."

Hashirama… can't quite imagine how that would work, but he trusts Tobi. If Tobi thought this was a good idea –and he was evidently _right_ since Tōka-nee managed to escape– then he'll go on trusting his brother.

It's a little bit exciting really that Izuna also wants peace, but it's much _less_ nice when she's using Tobi as leverage.

"I was only able to escape at _all_ because Tobirama had successfully worked up to Izuna agreeing to take him for a walk around the Uchiha compound," Tōka adds quietly. "I didn't _tell_ him that was what I was going to try and do while he was out –he might have got into trouble if he'd known– but without him doing that I never would have managed."

"Will he be okay?" Hashirama asks anxiously.

Tōka nods firmly. "Izuna's… very attached to him, and not just because she _is_ pregnant now," his cousin assures him. "Tobirama _didn't_ know I was planning to run away, so he won't get blamed for it."

"Does _she_ love _him?"_ Hashirama asks.

Tōka hesitates. "She might," his cousin admits quietly. "She calls him 'treasure,' Hashi. And she doesn't hide behind the blank face we're used to seeing on the battlefield either; she lets every last emotion show to him. She certainly likes him for _who_ he is, rather than just seeing him as a means to an end." She pauses again. "I think she liked him _before_ this, even; from just what she let slip she's clearly been paying attention to him for a long time."

Oh. Um. Oh dear. Hashirama's maybe a little bit _grateful_ for this then, because if Izuna secretly likes Tobirama but they're always fighting, then one day Tobirama might have _killed_ Izuna. And then Madara would have been _really_ upset that the person his sister liked had killed her. So maybe this is for the best? At least for peace later, when he and Madara are clan heads. Now they're brothers-in-law, which is very exciting!

He's not going to say that where his father can hear him though.

Tōka eyes him measuredly. "Oh, I've gone soft," she mutters irritably, then steps forwards and wraps him in a hug. Hashirama eagerly reciprocates, eyes welling up again.

"Missed you, Tōka-nee," he sniffles.

"I missed you too, you overgrown tree," his cousin tells him, squeezing his ribcage and letting him wrap his chakra around her; she feels so _steady_ , solid and dependable as her Element.

"I, I thought you were _dead,_ " Hashirama continues, voice wobbling as the horrible memories of the emptiness of the past month and a half crash down on him. "Neechan you were _dead_ and it was _awful_ –"

Tōka shoves the handkerchief in his face, then tugs his head down to rest of her shoulder. Hashirama obediently rests his face on the clean cloth so as not to stain her kimono, then lets his tears out. His cousin doesn't mind him crying on her.

* * *

Hashirama fidgets, taking care to keep his hands behind his back so his father can't see him fiddling with the leopard netsuke that Tobirama had somehow saved when their mother died. This isn't good; this _really_ isn't good. It should be Tōka at this meeting; she was _there_ with Tobirama and could explain what it is that's going on. Or even Sumi-ba, who told him after yesterday's dinner that before getting married she'd done a bit of infiltration work for her clan, aided by her relatively weak chakra and physical frailty. Tobirama's doing infiltration technically, even though he's not got any training, but he's already managed to make sure Tōka could escape, so really he's doing super well at it!

But his father is in charge of the clan, so his father gets to decide who is present for the report from the skylark summons, and Hashirama doesn't like his father's choices. But he can't _say_ that, not when Tobirama isn't here to smooth things over and explain his awkward wording to their father; he's got in so much trouble for saying things badly _already_ over the last two months, culminating in the twelve-day delivery mission to the western end of the continent that he only just got back from yesterday. It was a long, lonely run well past Wind and Earth, and he's glad to be home again.

Tobirama is doing _infiltration_ , and the Senju don't have many infiltration specialists. Don't have any, really, but Hashirama has a feeling several of these uncles' and cousins' _wives_ know more than just a little bit about how to fit in and get their own way when married to somebody with more power and influence in the clan than they do.

Cousin Sōka's here, at least, but that's because she's the clan's only skylark summoner. The skylarks are precious to the clan, because while their song-based illusions are useless in battle, the summons can use them to conjure in perfect detail everything they've seen over several hours and compress it into a half an hour report.

Hashirama is trying not to think about the fact that Father has always said that it's important to have a specialist on hand when getting a report from somebody else involved in that specialty, because if he's thinking it he might _say_ it and Father will get angry again and send him out on the basis that he's _not_ the right kind of specialist. He doesn't want to get sent out; he _needs_ to remember as much of this as possible so he can ask Tōka and Sumi-ba questions later.

Well, who _is_ here will tell him what Father thinks is going on. Well, it should, except that the uncles, cousins and other senior warriors here –six of them who aren't sitting at desks with ink and paper at the ready to take notes and create profiles– are a mix of stealth specialists and defence specialists. Which, Hashirama can't see the sense in _that_ but without Tobirama here to ask he'll have to bite his tongue and wait and see if he can work it out later. Or, failing that, ask Tōka.

He's not _stupid_. He's just not very good at thinking around corners like his little brother and big cousin are; once he knows what's going on he's _really_ good at seeing how things are likely to play out in a fight.

That's why he can keep up with Madara, even though Madara's got sharingan. He knows Madara _really_ well!

Then again, assassins are _kind of_ infiltration specialists? So maybe that's why they're here.

Slightly reassured, Hashirama settles his shoulders as his father nods to Sōka, who folds her hands through the chakra-sharing jutsu the skylark needs to relay its intelligence, then plants his feet as the first notes of the song –and the associated illusion– wash over him, squinting at the strange colour-patterns and weird almost-glowing things that always accompany these reports.

The colours in skylark illusions are not much like reality, but the shapes they see are clearly detailed even at a great distance. Hashirama barely needs a moment to realise the perspective is from a treetop a way back from the river, overlooking a network of ponds half-hidden under neatly pruned trees around a central hut on stilts.

In amongst the ponds, on a slightly wider section, his little brother's white hair glows like a beacon to bird eyes. A much _tidier_ beacon than normal; Hashirama squints slightly. Does his little brother have a _topknot?_ Yes he does, he realises as the perspective shifts slightly to focus more clearly on Tobirama and his immediate surroundings. His little brother's hair is longer than Hashirama's ever seen it, neatly bundled up on the top of his head a bit like Tōka does hers with only a few loose strands at his nape. That's longer than it's ever been, so it's grown a lot and very fast like Tōka said it had. She also said it _curled_ like Haha's did, if not near as tightly, but Hashirama can't _see_ that when it's all pulled back tight and tied up!

Tobirama's also wearing a vibrant kimono in yellow with a scale print in the vivid red of arterial spray, belted with an orange stiff obi. He looks well-fed, comfortable and like he's looking forward to something; Hashirama greedily drinks in the sight, ignoring the way bird-vision adds odd highlights to his little brother's facial markings and some of the flowers blooming at the water's edge. Tobirama's _there_ , he was seen mere _hours_ ago and he's visibly completely fine. He's not sitting stiffly like he's injured, or even like he doesn't like what he's wearing or what he's doing. He looks _happy_.

He's looking at Izuna.

Izuna looks… just the same, really. The hairstyle is softer and less battle-ready, more like how Sumi-ba does her hair than how Tōka does, but the vivid facial tattoo is still there, snaking across one cheekbone and over the other eyebrow with magatama angled to draw attention to her eyes, the chin and cheekbones are no less sharp, and the wisps of hair escaping here and there are just as light and floaty as usual. Her tattoo also has a faint overlay of dark colour in places, mostly on the magatama, but Hashirama can't think why it would; Tobirama's marks are something to do with chakra, Ōka-ba said, but Izuna's is just a tattoo. Maybe it's something to do with the ink?

The big difference –beyond the lattice-print brown kimono tied with a red obi– is in the facial expressions. Normally Izuna just looks blankly intent, but right now there're all kinds of emotions visible, even at this angle. Hashirama can't say how _real_ they are –it's always hard to tell when you're not there in person– but they _look_ sincere.

Mostly Izuna looks fond. Terribly, terribly fond, like just sitting next to Tobirama and talking about nothing in particular is a joy. And they _are_ talking, and Tobirama's not looking annoyed or stifled, or like he's having to paraphrase because his audience isn't familiar with his terminology or can't follow his reasoning. In fact he's smirking slightly now, like he's having fun and _teasing_ Izuna.

Izuna leans forwards and pokes Tobirama in the stomach with the handle of her rigid fan, a slow and easy movement that Hashirama's little brother does absolutely nothing to prevent or parry. He just grins, wide and toothy and smugly wicked.

Hashirama hasn't seen his little brother smile like that in _years_. He stares as his brother's face as his expression shifts in response to a passing thought and he leans slightly towards Izuna, saying something that Hashirama can't decipher because Tobirama has worked _hard_ to make himself very challenging to lip-read. Hashirama can still read _some_ , but it's been years since he really _tried_ to read Tobi. Before his brother moved into his own house on his own.

Izuna's expression turns curious and thoughtful as she speaks in turn, idly waving her fan. Tobirama's expression shifts to implausibly plaintive, complete with wide eyes and a small pout; Izuna's face creases with amusement, fan lifting to shield the expression from Hashirama's brother, then she says something that makes Tobirama offer her the small, delighted smile that is so terribly rare and deeply sincere.

Hashirama reels internally. Yes, Tōka had _said_ that Tobirama had got a bit attached to Izuna, but… this much? He's not seen Tobirama smile this much all at once in _years_. It's, he'd thought Tobirama wasn't smiling as much because he was trying to be responsible and grown-up! Not that his little brother was _unhappy!_

His thought swirl confusingly as Izuna produces a pair of colourful tasuki from her sleeve –tasuki that make his brother's eyes widen in soft delight– and watches –so fondly, so _warm_ behind that half-raised fan– as Tobirama ties back his layered kimono sleeves right up to the shoulder, turns towards the pond and bends down, one hand plunging into the water past the elbow and the other steadying him on the bank.

Izuna turns to look at him, giving them a view of the back of her head. Tobirama rolls his eyes at something she says, replying with something that makes Izuna's shoulders shake as the fan comes up again. Then Tobirama stills, eyes half-lidding as his focus turns inwards. Then, seconds later, his little brother pushes himself up from the bank and rolls onto his back, a good-sized fish gripped firmly in his other hand. He keeps rolling, hands coming together to snap the fish's spine just below the head, and he grins triumphantly at Izuna as the fish feebly flops its last.

Hashirama's heart hurts. Tobi just looks so _free,_ but he _knows_ he's imprisoned with fuuinjutsu. Mito explained more about Invocation to him, confirming that only Izuna would be able to free Tobi without probably killing either his little brother or the person messing with the fuuinjutsu, or both. He tries to take in more details as Izuna passes Tobirama a towel and produces a knife from her sleeve to gut the fish with –his little brother doesn't keep his eyes on the blade as he dries off, or even flinch at having an armed enemy easily within striking range– burning the innards with an easy twist of elemental manipulation that doesn't even take a breath, let alone require a handsign. Then she sets the fish aside, cleans her hands with another easy flash of fire, produces another set of tasuki, ties her sleeves back to reveal strong, muscled forearms marked with fine white sword-scars and picks up the fish again, balancing it along one arm.

Then fire springs up again and Tobirama laughs as he dries off with the towel, eyes bright and delighted as Izuna wastes chakra frying the fish he has just caught, turning it over halfway through to reveal that yes, high-level Fire manipulation _does_ let you use your own body as a cooking surface. Then once the fish is dark and seared on both sides she neatly folds her chakra away again and offers the entire fish to Tobirama.

Hashirama's little brother hesitates, but something Izuna says makes his eyes darken with playful glee; he snatches the fish –which is still twitching– rips the skin off one side and all but gobbles up the fresh, steaming flesh in greedy, inelegant mouthfuls.

Hashirama glances at Izuna, trying to gauge her reaction to Tobirama's shameless gluttony where fresh fish are concerned. His little brother has _stabbed people_ over fish before, so how she takes the behaviour is a valid concern. She doesn't seem put off or disgusted, but nor does she seem calculating; everything about her posture speaks of softness and joy, the only tension that which Hashirama is more familiar with seeing in his brother on those rare occasions when Tobirama is in a good enough mood to tease rather than mercilessly criticise.

Sure enough, Izuna says something, but rather than it making Tobirama bristle defensively his little brother raises a sardonic and faintly glowy eyebrow and says a few words that make Izuna laugh aloud. Her laughter doesn't make Tobirama stiffen either; they are _comfortable,_ not attacking each-other and trying to draw blood with verbal knives. Yes, they're definitely teasing, but it's _playful_.

Hashirama hasn't seen his brother so easy and free with himself since… he can't think of since. Has it been since before Itama died? Really that long? Before the river and Madara and that fight over his little brother telling Father where he was sneaking off to?

Has Tobirama been, well maybe not _unhappy,_ but has Tobi really _not_ been truly happy since then? He's really vibrant right now and not all of that is due to strange bird vision colours.

Izuna makes Tobi happy; Hashirama feels a profound and bitter pang of terrible jealousy. It's not _fair_ that Izuna can make his little brother soften like this, that she can draw out his rare smiles like it's _easy,_ or banter like Tobirama doesn't keep as many blades under his tongue as he does in his kunai pouch. Not fair that she's got him tied up with fuuinjutsu and has _coerced_ him into marrying her, but he is _still_ showing her more of his inner self than Hashirama has seen since they were both children.

Then reality hits him like a bucket of water, Tōka's words on willingness and concessions earned echoing in his ears. Tobirama doesn't _like_ letting people see him like this, doesn't _like_ to be vulnerable. But Izuna has tremendous power over his little brother right now, so Tobirama is letting her see more of himself so she gives _him_ more of what _he_ wants. And yes, Tobirama might _well_ like Izuna as a person… but Tobi's never been one to let his own feelings get in the way of his duty to his clan.

The sickly anger vanishes, leaving only chill in its wake. If they get Tobi _back_ , Tobi _will_ use everything he's learned to kill Izuna, because their clans are at war and it's his _duty_ to do that. To seize any and every advantage he can against the Uchiha, for the Senju's sake. But killing Izuna, when Izuna in pregnant with his child, when she so clearly _sees_ his little brother, so clearly _cares_ –and when Tobi so visibly cares _back_ – will break Tobirama's heart.

And then _neither_ Hashirama _nor_ Madara will have any younger siblings _left_.

* * *

Tōka gets back from practicing with her naginata –the only weapon she still _has_ after her imprisonment, and how it _burns_ that she can't go back into the field until replacement armour and sandals can be sourced– to find her idiot cousin slumped at her mother's kitchen table, radiating nervous misery.

"Hashi, what's up?" She asks cautiously; her cousin's a very cheerful fool for being so very strong, but he's also startlingly perceptive and very good at reading the mood of a room. Anything that worries him like this is _definitely_ a problem, as he's not being loud or dramatic about it.

He looks up, expression woefully conflicted. "Tōka-nee, there was another report today."

"So soon?" She knows he means another espionage report from the skylark summons hanging around on the eastern bank of the river up by the Uchiha compound, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tobirama. Yesterday it rained so of course there'd been nothing, but today? Already? It's only been a few days since Hashirama was last here wailing about how if they _don't_ get peace Tobirama is going to _die_. He's far away and defenceless and it isn't like certain Uchiha haven't _tried_. Or, more likely, of a broken heart once they do manage to free him but can't get peace afterwards.

Tōka had managed to put _that_ worry to rest by assuring him that they are in fact _vanishingly_ unlikely to get Tobirama back considering the fuuinjutsu on him –which Obaasan confirmed for them both– so what new concern has surfaced today?

"Yes," her overgrown cousin says fretfully, "and I _don't like_ who else was receiving the report this time. Tobi, he's _happy_ Tōka-nee and it _shows_. And he treats Izuna like, it's like I feel about Mito. He's not _obvious_ and he's teasing every other sentence, but he cares so _much_ and Father doesn't like it at _all_."

Tōka's underlying sense of joy and exhilaration of having beaten _several_ annoyingly gossipy clansmen into the dust turns to uneasy horror in her stomach. She settles at the table opposite her cousin, grateful that her mother isn't here right now. "He was flirting again."

"It was, it was _more_ than flirting, Tōka-nee," Hashirama says helplessly. "And he was standing there in a really pretty kimono all embroidered with scenery and a dragon and wearing a woman's obi in wavy blue damask and he looked _comfortable_. He even had a paper umbrella. And then Izuna introduced him to a bunch of children –so _many_ children Tōka, there must have been fifteen of them including babies– and just, left him there. Under some plum trees, with no other adults anywhere to be seen. He spent all morning cuddling toddlers and breaking up fights and telling stories to Uchiha children." Hashirama looks _lost_. "Is that, is that what Tobirama really _wants_ to be doing? I thought, he always said that the Uchiha _had_ to be defeated, that they were our most dangerous enemy!" His head flops down to rest on his folded arms. "I don't _understand!"_

"Strategically speaking, they are," Tōka says quietly. "After all, we have a longstanding feud with them which up until now has seemed irresolvable, their home territory is very close to ours and we _know_ that the Uchiha are the only clan on the continent that can match our forces in the field. So, logically and strategically, they _are_ the greatest threat to the Senju. They have both the means and the motivation to destroy us."

Hashirama sits up and _stares_. "Strategically?! It's, it's about _strategy?!_ Not, not Tobi _hating_ them?"

"I honestly don't think our Tobira hates _anybody_ ," Tōka says dryly. "It's a waste of energy and clouds your thinking." She can almost hear him saying it.

"So it was all just a logic thing?" Hashi looks like Tōka just snapped a sapling in half in front of him. "More duty?"

"Of course it was," Tōka says, abruptly impatient with her _blockhead_ cousin who for all his sensitivity to mood can't read Tobirama without a colour-coded map, and even then gets hopelessly lost within about three steps. "You _know_ how Tobi guards his heart, Hashi-deku; you know how _completely_ he's given himself to improving things for the entire clan. It's _always_ been about the clan, not about him."

Hashirama bursts into tears. Tōka sags back into her chair and stares at the ceiling; well, on the one hand it's good that Hashirama is _finally_ realising he's been a _total ass_ to Tobirama ever since that fight they had as pre-teens, but on the other why does her overgrown cousin have to be so, so _soggy_ about his feelings?

"I'm a _terrible_ big brother," Hashirama eventually mumbles into his hands.

"Yes, I noticed," Tōka says dryly. "Tobi doesn't think you are though; he thinks you're right and he's a terrible person."

That sets off Hashirama wailing again; maybe she should have been nicer? No; the big idiot needs to get over himself and do _better_. Tobirama _deserves_ better. And yes, it _burns_ that the entire clan have been treating her little cousin so _utterly shittily_ that Tobi's _mortal enemy_ treats him better than any of his relatives do, but it's a bit late to do anything about _that_.

Tōka still wants to punch Izuna in the face though.

* * *

Tōma sweats nervously as his uncle Misu checks over his gear, expression flat and intimidating. Since Chichi died last autumn Misu-oji has taken much more of an interest in his training, which is cool but also kinda scary. He isn't sure what Misu-oji's specialty is, but Tōma's getting pretty good at the fast-draw sword techniques and chakra suppression so maybe his uncle is considering taking him on as a disciple? That would be _really_ cool because Misu-oji is one of Butsuma-sama's most trusted.

The other men on this night mission are all much older and more experienced that Tōma is, which is _really_ nerve-racking. What if he ruins things? Messes it up! Is Misu-oji bringing him along as a test? If it _is_ a test, Tōma resolves to pass it; Misu-oji is very respected and he brings in lots of money for the Senju, so if Tōma were to have the aptitude to learn those skills he could help his mother support his little sisters. Mum has been helping with transcribing intelligence reports since Dad died and making Kenka learn too, but that means his two littler sisters aren't getting as much Mum-time and they're both miserable and fussy over it. Tenka's six and knows better, but Hyōka's only two.

His uncle eventually nods, approving of the mottled dark grey paint covering Tōma's armour, the rags knotted around everything that might clink and jingle and the grey tabi and gloves covering his hands and feet.

"Nothing missed," he says, which is high praise; Tōma does his best to breathe evenly and not betray his relief and excitement. "Your orders?"

This _is_ a test; he will pass it! "Stay behind you as we infiltrate the Uchiha compound, step where you step," Tōma repeats obediently. "Then once we've arrived at the target, follow Chirinma-oji-san and do as he says."

His uncle nods. "Good." He then turns to Chirinma-oji-san, who is standing off to one side with Kabe-san and Tōma's close-cousin Kyōzoma-nii, who looks a bit annoyed at having to drag a 'baby' along on an important sensitive mission but Misu-oji has already said that Butsuma-sama wanted them to bring someone young. Tōma knows his uncle _must_ have picked him specially and is determined not to let him down. He won't fail!

He knows what the mission is; his uncle made him promise to keep it a secret, then told him before letting him agree to come along. So Tōma knows Butsuma-sama is sending them to kill a clansman who defected to the Uchiha, and that the traitor clansman is Butsuma-sama's son Tobirama-sama.

It hurts, that rather than dying an honourable death Tobirama-sama has given his loyalty to the enemy. It's terrible and wrong and outrageous; Tōma actually shouted when Misu-oji told him about it, but his uncle didn't scold him for it. Just patted him on the shoulder and told him he was growing into a fine young man, which made Tōma feel terribly pleased and also flustered. His uncle doesn't often compliment him.

Then they leave the clan compound and Tōma has to focus on keeping his chakra close and quiet while also keeping up with the veteran warriors. Thankfully they're not running very _fast_ , but that just makes Tōma feel like more of a burden. He's slowing them down!

His uncle glances over his shoulder. "There's no rush," he says quietly. "Won't be moving on the Uchiha until moonset; pace yourself."

That's quite a long time away; the sun has barely set. Relieved he's not actively sabotage the mission with his inexperience and lack of speed, Tōma slows slightly and concentrates on keeping his chakra dampened. Rushing might get them caught, and that would be _worse_ than running a little bit late.

* * *

Tōma is sick to his stomach with nerves and suppressing his chakra has never been so hard, but he is _inside_ the Uchiha compound. Kabe waded across the river with a rolled-up rope bridge that they all had to teeter across _without_ chakra, because Tōka-sama escaped _right past_ the Uchiha's main shinobi headquarters so that's where they have to go _in_ , in order to find the house where Tobirama-san is living. Misu-oji made them all wait an hour before crossing the river to account for a watch change, and then they had to walk quietly and carefully down the side of the road, sticking to the shadows, _knowing_ that if any Uchiha turns a sharingan in their direction all hope of stealth will be lost.

Tōma still wants to throw up, even though the Uchiha shinobi headquarters is now out of sight behind them. Misu explained during that hour-long delay that they would be leaving south rather than across the river, but now he's surrounded by buildings Tōma _can't remember_ which way south is. He's had to look up at the stars wheeling overhead _twice_ to remind himself, which is terrible. He's not usually this bad at directions!

The building looks just like the sketch Chirinma-oji-san showed them all at the meeting before they left home; small compared to the other houses, surrounded by a low garden like some tea-houses have, with a hip-high fence of sturdy poles and cross-pieces marking the boundaries. The tree is exactly where it's supposed to be; Tōma reminds himself of the internal layout of the building, three main rooms and a small washroom, with the sleeping area directly opposite the genkan.

Misu-oji gestures; Tōma swallows hard, wipes his hands on his shirt, loosens the hilt of his short sword –the long one won't do him any good indoors– and steps forwards, ducking his head to Chirinma-oji-san. Chririnma-oji-san nods gravely back, gestures to Kabe-san and Kyōzoma-nii and then carefully pushes the garden gate open with his foot; it swings inwards without a sound.

Chririnma-oji-san then jogs quickly up the front path, Tōma at his heels –Tōma stumbles at the expected but _terrifying_ loss of his chakra but manages not to trip over– as Kabe-san and Kyōzoma-nii hurry through the garden towards the engawa and Misu-oji vanishes into the shadows of the tree overshadowing the open gate.

Then he is in the genkan, sliding out of his sandals –socks will be quieter– and being waved forwards into the hall. Tōma already knew he'd be first; Misu-oji has explained gravely that Tobirama-san was a very dangerous warrior, but he had a soft spot for young people so Tōma would be opening the bedroom door, because if he was awake he'd hesitate to attack Tōma right away, which would give Chirinma-oji-san the opportunity to step _past_ Tōma and cut him down. Tōma had nodded and agreed then, honoured and excited to be given such an important role, but right now he just feels sick.

This is Tobirama-san's _house_ where he's living now, but even though he's defected the Uchiha aren't letting him stay somewhere where he can feel his own chakra? Tobirama-san is a _sensor_ like Genka-ba, how can he _stand_ being so blind and isolated?

Tōma steps carefully into the hall, the boards unsettlingly warm underfoot as he glances left and right but only sees empty space; not even a cat, which is a relief considering new intelligence on any remotely Uchiha-aligned cats is to assume they are summons. Then he reaches for the fusuma in front of him, hesitates for a moment then pulls them open in a single steady movement.

Misu-oji taught him that the secret to being discreet is not to _sound_ like you are sneaking. So he opens the fusuma as though this is his house –not that his house is fine enough to have fusuma– and he has every right to be here.

There's no movement inside the pitch-black room, but Tōma can hear soft, rumbling breathing –Tobirama-san doesn't snore exactly but the sound he makes is still _distinctive_ – and as his eyes adjust, a pale splash in the gloom that must be white hair. Tōma immediately steps to the side to let Chirinma-oji past; his uncle steps across the threshold of the fusuma and into the dark room where Tobirama-san is deeply asleep, one hand on the sword-hilt directly above his right shoulder.

There is a hiss as the sword is drawn from the scabbard, a shockingly fast movement directly down across Tobirama-san's neck.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that in Naruto, 'canon-typical violence' covers quite a lot.

Tobirama wakes to warning fire in the small of his back and his ears full of the sound of shattering steel. He's bracing himself against the futon and kicking up and back before he's even properly awake –his bare foot connects with something solid; armour but it's not Hashirama dragging him out of bed at their father's behest– and his assailant grunts, falling backwards against the fusuma with a clatter. Tobirama lets his foot drop, yanks the fusuma panel in front of him open, snatches up Kiso-kun and his blanket –still asleep thankfully– and rolls into the tatami room, bouncing to his feet with the toddler –and the stuffed dog Kiso is cuddling– clutched against his left shoulder and grabbing the braiding stand as an impromptu weapon. Holding the toddler makes him a target, but better to keep Kiso-kun away from his assailants than as a hostage in enemy hands.

The shōji panels opposite him and the hallway door off to one side both open just as he _realises_ who it is trying to _murder_ him in the middle of the night –his heart _screams_ – and he snarls defiance, letting the inhuman sound fill his chest and roll up his throat between bared teeth.

There's a short scream from the shadowed fusuma room, cut off by choked gurgle and a satisfied feline yowl that echoes strangely; there will be no further assault from _that_ angle then. Fewer angles to watch is a good thing. He and his assailants are all without chakra but there're more of them and they're _armed._

Four more assassins; four _kinsmen_ sent to _murder_ him in his _sleep_ , one of them barely-teenage Tōma who is supporting his widowed mother and three little sisters. How _dare_ his father–!

Then Izuna is _here_ , chakra wild and _raging_ with all the power of an autumn storm, the energy crackling over her skin, wild hair and fluttering sleeping yukata as she gives Tobirama her back and shields him from the ballistic fragments of shōji panels, the entire western wall of the tatami room a gaping hole and Kyōzoma reduced to bloody pulp in a gigantic semi-skeletal indigo fist.

Susano-o, Tobirama thinks vaguely as he drops the braiding stand and his cousin's body is shaken loose with a negligent flick of a wrist wider than most men's _torsos_ , is really _not_ suited to indoor use. He can't sense _anything_ past Izuna's furious tempest of anise, fire and ozone, but he has also _never_ felt so safe. The ghostly form of the immense warrior provides just enough light to see by, deep blue chakra solidified into bones and armour. It's the first time he's ever been this close to it; the only other chakra technique he knows to compare this to are the Uzumaki chakra chains, and those are far more compact. This massive mobile effigy bleeds excess chakra from every surface, a shadow of light limning it in ghostly flames; no wonder it's a technique Izuna uses sparingly.

A knife large enough to cut a horse in half appears in the gigantic hand with a whisper of flame and _stabs_ backwards through the shōji to Tobirama's left; there's a choking gasp and the massive chakra construct is also dropped, tearing what remains of the paper panels before evaporating as Izuna's attention swiftly moves elsewhere.

A clatter catches Tobirama's attention; he glances over Izuna's shoulder –between the midnight blue ribs of the Susano-o– to see his little cousin Tōma in the doorway to the hall, sword lying on the boards by his tabi-clad feet and eyes wide and white as a spooked horse.

Then he collapses bonelessly sideways – _away_ from the sword– eyes glinting red with sharingan genjutsu. Izuna strides forwards –Tobirama follows, making sure the miraculously-still-sleeping Kiso-kun is fully covered by the blanket so won't see anything if he _does_ wake– as the massive bone-and-armour left arm reaches out into the garden –through the gaping absence of shōji panels all the way to the gate– and brings back a man hanging limply in a fist of dark chakra phalanges, lower body twisted at an angle that makes it _abundantly_ clear that the Senju's best assassin will never be walking again.

His eyes are tightly closed, the lines of tension on his face visible by Susano-o's eldritch glow; Izuna snorts, a handkerchief falling from her right sleeve.

" _Open your eyes._ "

Tobirama's senses are full of the searing scent of evaporating dew –even through the crackling electric storm raging all around him– as Misu obeys instantly, then stiffens, convulses and starts frothing at the mouth, his irises turning red with strange distorted black pattern that is _not_ tomoe, thick black around a red pupil with three radiating lines connecting the inner ring to the outer edge of the iris and spinning ominously quickly.

This feels like a nightmare, except he knows it isn't. That's Tōma-kun lying crumpled in the hallway, alive but likely not for much longer. Chirinma is dead in the fusuma room and the cloying smell of blood overwhelming him now the distractions and clarity of battle are fading makes it clear the cat ripped open the arteries in his throat; the entire space will be painted with dripping vermillion. Kyōzoma is so much paste and blood spatter, spread across the western engawa and the nearer parts of the garden; Kabe took a giant chakra knife-construct through the lung and likely now lacks much in the way of lung, ribcage or spine; and Misu is dying before his eyes, twitching and seizing as Izuna rips his mind out through his eyeballs.

His _own kin_ were sent by _his father_ to _assassinate him_. He… he doesn't _understand_.

Misu's broken, twisted body hits the tatami and Izuna is suddenly facing him, hair spiking every-which-way around her face and eyes the same three-pronged black-on-red as just killed one of his father's most trusted. He doesn't understand why this has happened. It makes no sense. "Are you hurt?"

Tobirama realises vaguely that he just sobbed. "Not _bleeding_ ," he manages, ducking his head to breathe in Kiso's baby scent and try to calm himself. He can _taste_ the spilled blood on his tongue, the acrid tang of a punctured stomach spilling acid into the open air and is trying to ignore the vaguely meaty sound of what is likely the mother cat making a meal of his dead kin. It's not a battlefield; this is so much _worse_. He can't fight; there's nobody left _to_ fight.

Izuna wraps her arms around him, one hand possessively splayed over his lower back and the other cradling his scalp. "Oh my treasure, my snow leopard, my darling dear," she murmurs as the defensive ribcage of chakra subsides to reveal a _lot_ of other Uchiha within the boundaries of the Diplomatic Quarters' seals, but all wisely staying in the garden, "I am _so sorry_ it has come to this."

Surrounded by the choking scent of the blood and bile of his family, family his captor and lifelong enemy has just _protected him from_ as Madara's vividly concerned presence materialises at Izuna's elbow to look over the ruined building with professional eyes, coat thrown carelessly over his sleeping attire, Tobirama decides he doesn't _care_ about dignity right now. He steps back from Izuna, carefully hands the toddler to his brother-in-law –who accepts Kiso-kun and the cuddly toy with surprised eyes but steady, capable hands– then turns back to his wife:

"I," he says precisely, "Am _not okay._ "

Then he slumps into her arms, lets his head rest against her welcoming shoulder and _wails_.

 _How can it have come to_ this? _What did he_ do _to deserve_ this? _He doesn't_ understand!

* * *

Izuna has somebody fetch Madara's spare coat –which still holds a hint of Tōka's scent from her daring escape– and slides it over his sleeping yukata before carrying him out of the Diplomatic Quarters, beyond the boundary fence and deeper into the clan compound. Tobirama doesn't really pay much attention; he's too busy reeling.

Too busy hurting.

His father –his _father_ –

_Why?_

It doesn't make any _sense!_ Tobirama _knows_ his value to the clan; he also knows that if his father had _succeeded_ , Izuna would have stormed the Senju compound _immediately_ –her brother, cousin and Squad at her heels to keep her alive and whole– and slaughtered her way to his father in vengeance. She _loves_ him and Uchiha are _not_ moderate or proportionate in loss. The Senju _know_ that, have _long_ known that and Izuna would be all but unchallenged unless Anija was there, but all she would need to do to offset _that_ would be to take Madara along with her. And then the compound would be razed to the ground, Madara making a pyre of it for all the corpses Izuna's rampage would leave in its wake.

Why not just send a stealth specialist to ask Tobirama in _person_ what on earth he thinks he's doing, if Tōka's testimony is insufficient? Why _this?_ It's _senseless!_ They could have just reached out to him, why didn't they even _try?_

He shivers, suddenly cold despite the mild spring evening and the heavy coat. Izuna pauses, turning slightly so her chin presses against his ear; she's almost fever-hot, chakra running strongly just beneath her skin, sharp and alert for further attacks.

Tobirama shivers again, abruptly aware that he's got nothing on his feet and his toes are _freezing_.

Izuna changes direction and there's a brief rush of chakra –shunshin– and then she's shifting her grip on him so as to get a door open without putting him down. Tobirama clings to her upper body –some of the heat she's radiating permeates his coat and he's _so cold_ – but then they're indoors somewhere damp and _warm_ and Izuna lights a set of quartz lamps with a flicker of chakra, sets him down on a wooden bench and starts taking his coat off.

"Cold," he manages through chattering teeth, trying to push her hands away.

"I know, we're having a hot bath," Izuna soothes him, getting the front fastenings open and leaning in to press her chest to his as she tugs the coat off him. She's _really_ warm; Tobirama stops trying to push her away and instead fumbles for the ties holding her sleeping yukata closed; if she's _this warm_ through the lined cotton then she'll be _warmer_ once they're skin to skin.

She chuckles and kisses his ear, letting him drag the thin garment off her body and dump it in a crumpled heap on the bench, then helps him out of his own sleeping yukata; he was right, skin-to-skin is _much_ better. He wraps his thighs around her hips, trying to press as much of his body against hers as he can without touching the floor, which is bound to be cold. Izuna steadies him with a hand under his behind and another between his shoulders, then walks further into the building.

Tobirama keeps his face pressed into where her neck meets her shoulder, basking in the warmth rising off her skin. His back's still cold, but that's offset by the glorious heat sinking into his chest and limbs from contact with Izuna's skin.

Her chakra rises above her skin, wrapping tentatively around him and Tobirama sags, sighing happily.

"Warm…"

"And about to be warmer, best beloved," Izuna assures him, feeding chakra into something set in the wall behind him. Some kind of fuuinjutsu, Tobirama assumes vaguely; after a few long minutes of hazy warmth there is a rattle of plumbing and a roar of running water, then Izuna steps forward and Tobirama is abruptly soaking wet.

Wet, but still _hot_ : the falling water is comfortably above blood temperature. He uncurls slightly from Izuna, tipping his head back so the warm rain can fall on his face and drip down his chest. Yes, that's _better_ and his shift in weight didn't unbalance her at all; he breathes, letting the warm water wash over him.

"I'm standing on a wooden grating," Izuna murmurs, "so you can stand if you want to. Your feet won't get cold."

Tobirama cautiously lets one foot drop to probe the floor, cracking an eye open to check; yes, there is indeed a wooden grate fitted over the sunken tile floor, so the water can drain freely without forcing bathers to walk in a pool. It's also not cold –not _warm_ either but that's bearable now he's standing under hot water– so he sets both feet on the grate and straightens up.

Then sways, unexpectedly lightheaded. Izuna catches him and lowers him so he's sitting on a stool under the hot spray, then adjusts the pipe the water is coming _from_ so it's lower down.

"Better?" She asks, eyes still that strange black-on-red pattern and chakra storm-ridden.

"Mhm," Tobirama mumbles, ducking forwards so the hot water runs over his back. This is… _very_ nice, actually. Being wrapped in Izuna's chakra was warm, but also distinctly dizzying; sitting here with the hot water sluicing over his back and steam billowing around him is grounding, somehow.

Chakra nature, his mind supplies eventually as Izuna starts rubbing a soapy washcloth all over him. Izuna is Fire-natured; Tobirama is Water-natured. Fire may nominally be weak to water, but when Izuna has _all_ her chakra at her disposal and he has none of his, it follows that _he_ will be the one struggling. He'd been cold, possibly experiencing mild shock; his wife correctly deduced that applying wet heat will be healthier and less likely to have side-effects than dry heat.

Once Izuna has washed all his skin and her own and he's soaked through from the top of his head to the soles of his feet –but also _warm_ to his bones– She turns off the water. Tobirama makes a grumpy noise in his throat; now he will get _cold_. He does not _like_ being cold, he never has.

His horrible wife _laughs_ at him, a near-soundless chuckle. "Come on dearest, the pool is this way."

A pool? A _hot_ pool? Tobirama lurches to his feet –and does _not_ feel dizzy– and puts his feet in the flat sandals waiting at the edge of the wooden grating so he can cross the tiled floor beyond without getting cold, absently accepting the towel and rubbing his sloppily braided hair with it. His bangs have all bounced loose, but the rest of his hair is still properly restrained. It will need rebraiding, but that's not urgent.

There _is_ a hot pool. A nice _deep_ one, so that if he sits on the ledge that runs around two sides the water completely covers his shoulders; most pools don't let him do that. Tobirama sighs as Izuna folds up his damp towel and slides it under his head, cushioning the hard tiled edge. Then she climbs into the water next to him.

* * *

Tobirama wakes slowly, aware of _not_ being in the Diplomatic Quarters even before opening his eyes; the scents are all wrong and so is the light. Opening his eyes a crack, he takes in a deep breath to try and get a feel for his situation.

He is not in danger, because that is his wife lying back to back with him, her chakra scent unmistakeable and the warmth of her body seeping through the sleeping yukata he is wearing. Not his, or at least not one he is familiar with; it is _unquestionably_ silk and the sleeve he can see is light purple with near-black leopard dapples, which leads him to suspect this is a gift Izuna was saving for a later occasion. He _did_ imply he wanted a silk sleeping yukata after all. Has his tansu been rescued yet, or will he have to ask?

Kiso-kun is curled up on his little baby futon –actually probably a _different_ baby futon, given the blood that was flying last night– right next to Tobirama's nose, so the most immediate scent is toddler. Faintly stressed toddler; is he having a nightmare? Tobirama picks up the two-year-old and cradles him against his chest, purring softly. Kiso-kun's scent immediately starts softening, the slight tension in his limbs vanishing as he slumps limply in Tobirama's arms.

Shifting slightly, Tobirama looks around the room, still purring. The light through the blinds covering the shōji in front of him is soft and indirect, so this room does not face north or east. Possibly west; the phoenix-carved transom panels overhead show a clear but pale light, indicating that it is fairly early.

The ceiling is beautifully carved and painted –possibly even recently re-touched– with complex geometric shapes that doubtless reinforce the structural integrity of the roof above it. Shuffling up into a sitting position, Kiso still comfortably held against his chest, reveals fusuma panels filling the three other walls, painted with elaborate pagoda and lush gardens in every season floating on clouds, populated by kami dressed in the old Imperial style, jūnihitoe on the women and sokutai on the men. It's all very traditional, and nothing at all like he would expect Izuna to like.

But if this house is the traditional abode of the Amaterasu Head… well, old-fashioned fusuma art will likely be the least of it. Then again, maybe not; Izuna likely can't _change_ the fusuma, but everything else may well be negotiable.

Other than the futons and Kiso's dog toy, the room has a folding screen with two bathing yukata tossed over it, a wash-stand, two double-height tansu and an elegant calligraphy scroll hanging above a low chest topped by a vase and a ceramic ornament. A very familiar Tea Ceremony chest, in fact; clever to use it as a side-table.

So this is Izuna's room; it's less personal than Tobirama was expecting. Then again, she has only just moved in; maybe she hasn't done much unpacking yet.

Izuna rolls over, eyes opening as she rests an arm on his legs and smiles languidly up at him. "Good morning, Treasure."

The more awake he becomes the less good this morning feels; last night's events loom like towering storm clouds, heavy and bruise-tender. "Not that good," Tobirama deflects.

Izuna raises a gentle eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well I'm in your bed wearing nothing but silk yet remain distinctly unravished," Tobirama says blandly over the top of Kiso's head. "A terrible disappointment."

Izuna snorts. "You fell asleep in the bath, Treasure; you didn't _choose_ to join me here."

Okay, that's a fair observation, but still. "Does that mean you promise to _thoroughly_ ravish me later?"

His wife chuckles warmly, gliding a hand up his bare thigh under the yukata. "If it would please my treasure, then I would be _delighted_ to spend the afternoon enjoying you."

Tobirama raises an eyebrow. "Not the morning?"

Izuna's expression sours, hand sliding back down to his knee and thumb stroking the tendon behind it. "Given last night's happenings, I intend to have _words_ with your father."

Tobirama's thoughts collide and pile up like a bevy of clumsy teenage warriors in an armoury. What does she mean and intend by _that_? "Words?" He asks cautiously.

Izuna levers herself up into a sitting position and brushes a curl behind his ear. "I considered having rather _more_ than words," she says frankly, "but much as my Lord-Father and Taka-sempai would have enjoyed that, Madara-nii would have been terribly unhappy and it's honestly bad enough that there's a baby Senju nowhere near old enough to shave shackled to the wall of the stone room in the Diplomatic Quarters. I abducted you because I wanted there to be _fewer_ deaths, not _more_." Her lips thin. "Also, I _refuse_ to solve the problem of your father _for_ your clan. They can damn well clean this up for themselves."

That is almost _more_ alarming, given Izuna's established preference for ensuring her enemies live long, miserable lives to regret their mistakes in. "What exactly do you have in mind then?"

Izuna smiles; it's not a nice expression. "I and several other prominent persons are going to dress up and go shout _very_ loudly just outside your clan compound," she says cheerfully, "and give the bodies of your attackers back."

"Give?"

Izuna shifts. "I was leaning towards 'throw'," she admits candidly, "but if you'd rather I didn't?"

That's really very considerate of her, considering how blindingly _furious_ he can feel the subject matter is making her _._ Tobirama thinks about it. He's… he's angry too, actually. Then something Izuna said earlier registers.

"Tōma-kun's alive?" He'd expected the Uchiha to have killed him; it would at least have been a quick and painless death while unconscious.

Izuna grimaces. "He's a _baby_ , Tobirama; he _dropped_ his _sword_. I just knocked him out, and he doesn't even need to be interrogated because I ripped all the relevant details and then some out of Misu." She shifts. "I did do a basic scan; he was just doing as he was told and trying to please his elders."

" _Thank you_." Tobirama leans in and rests his forehead against hers. "He's got a mother and three little sisters he's supporting." Tōma's not even fourteen yet; he shouldn't have been brought on this mission to _begin_ with.

Except, thinking logically, Tobirama knows _exactly_ why round-faced Tōma with his gangly limbs and baby fat was included in the squad sent to assassinate him. Misu _knows_ Tobirama, knows his weaknesses all too well; he was often the one lecturing Tobirama on them.

Misu is one of his father's trusted advisors, as well as the one who did the most to help Tobirama refine his sensing ability. He spent _many_ hours as a pre-teen and teenager playing hide-and-seek with the man, as well as with Chirinma-ji and Kyōzoma, the only other cousin vaguely his age with a half-decent sensing ability and good control over his chakra. Kabe he knew less well, but they were all still _kin_. And now they are dead.

Killed by Izuna for attacking _him_ ; the world has truly turned upside down.

"His mother and sisters can get him back once your clan's apologised properly," Izuna grumbles. "I'm giving them a week to make reparations before I take the matter to the Fire Daimyo, who _won't_ be impressed that Senju Butsuma has attempted to murder the son that got married off to the Uchiha, barely a week after he was notified of the wedding having taken place."

No, he won't be. In fact that is _exactly_ the kind of thing that any daimyo _detests_ , as it suggests the Uchiha were open to ending the feud and the Senju entered into peace negotiations under false pretences. Which Izuna _knows_. When it comes to tactical politics Izuna _massively_ outclasses him, as she has _ensured_ that no matter what happens next, the Uchiha _will_ benefit.

"Did you know my father would, would–?"

His wife twitches. "I knew it was a possibility," she mutters, "in that it's consistent with his earlier known behaviour. I just didn't think it was _likely_ , because it's _stupid_. But apparently he hates our clan more than logic or reason."

"So you're giving my clan a week." A week to make proper restitution, or at least come to terms for a ceasefire with an eye to a future treaty. Which his father will _never_ agree to, so a week for the clan to depose his father before they are all judged for his actions; truly Izuna has considered every angle. She won't even have to _touch_ the Senju as they tear themselves apart.

"Long enough to get desperate, not enough to get clever," Izuna agrees, shifting to kiss his cheek. "But if I hear nothing by the end of the week, then I _will_ present my case to the daimyo, for the wrongs done to me and mine by his tenants."

And the daimyo is likely to order the deaths of everybody within three generations of his father –bar Tobirama who is now an Uchiha– and possibly present the Uchiha with their pick of the younger survivors as vassals and indentured servants as restitution for the perceived faithlessness. Those not chosen would likely be scattered elsewhere, hopefully with servitude contracts rather than mired in debt in brothels, for all that it would be the Uchiha's _right_ to choose where to sell any survivors they did not keep.

No matter how this ends, his father will not see the end of the month. The only question is whether he will be the _only_ casualty, or if he will drag the entire clan down with him. Either way the clan _will_ be fractured by this, and it will be a long, long time before that fear and mistrust will heal.

Izuna kisses him again, this time on the mouth, the press of her lips gentle and chaste. "You can't go into the kitchen," she says quietly, "or into my study, and you can't pass the garden fence. But everywhere else is open to you, including the small private bath-house; you don't need chakra to activate the hot water, either. The only people who can come into the grounds uninvited are Naka-Dragon and Hayami-chan, who are responsible for the cooking and cleaning on mornings and afternoons respectively. Kiso-kun can't leave unless he is physically handed across the boundary line into somebody's arms, but he may return whenever he wishes."

"Thank you." Clarity is, as always, much appreciated. However, "Where are my clothes?"

His wife smiles. "In your bedroom." She nods at the fusuma on her side of the futon. "Through there, past the iori; there's no futon just yet I'm afraid, given I wasn't expecting you to need a new one, but there will be."

"And where will Kiso-kun be sleeping?"

Izuna shrugs. "With me, unless you would like to keep him close."

"We will alternate," Tobirama decides firmly, very conscious of the rapid baby heartbeat against his chest, "unless he expresses a preference." Yes, Izuna's willingness to visit him in his bed and let him keep that space entirely his own is very considerate, but he wants to be able to visit her privately in _her_ space as well. And he _does_ like having the toddler close.

"As you wish."

Tobirama eyes her. He _knows_ there's more to that phrase than the obvious, but he doesn't know what it _is_. Same with, 'I can fix that'; there's context he's _missing_. He's about to ask about it when Kiso-kun stirs, blinks and whimpers in hunger.

"Let's go for breakfast, shall we?" Izuna says, reaching out to stroke the little boy's hair.

Tobirama _will_ ask later.

* * *

Naka-Dragon is a woman of indeterminate age with modest chakra reserves and strong hands, fingertips dyed faintly greenish under the nail beds. Tobirama guesses she's a dyer or possibly a kimono painter when not cooking and cleaning for Izuna; that she only helps in the mornings implies she has other work to fill the rest of her time. She's also slim, not much shorter than Izuna –who is tall for a woman– with grey-tinged eyes and a fairly elaborate but very well-pinned hairstyle.

Her chakra is well-trained but only very reluctantly fire-leaning, as through her natural affinity has been overridden. Tobirama can't tell what that natural affinity _was_ , his chakra sense numbed as it is, but continued exposure might give him a few clues. This however implies that while _all_ Uchiha are trained to wield fire, doing so does not come naturally to all of them. That's different to how Senju do things –where you are tested with special paper to determine your affinity and then encouraged to specialise accordingly if you have the reserves for it– but Tobirama can see how it would present different advantages.

Different pitfalls as well.

Kiso-kun obediently used the toilet and washed his hands before the meal, devoured his katemeshi garnished with fish-flakes, then allowed Naka-Dragon to help him dress in a taiko-print red outfit far less tattered than yesterday's orange clothing before dashing out into the garden to explore. Izuna caught him long enough to explain that he would not be able to leave the garden unless somebody took him out, but the toddler didn't seem to mind that.

He's already much more active and inquisitive than Tobirama has seen up until now, which is very promising but also slightly heartbreaking. Has his agreeing to keep the boy really made _that_ much of a difference to him? Was he simply dispirited from lack of affection?

When Izuna leaves to dress he follows her; she eyes him over her shoulder when he lingers by the folding screen, but undresses and washes herself without asking him to look away. It's… watching is _different_ to helping her wash. Very different; almost _more_ intimate, not less. It makes him wonder what it would be like to watch her pleasure herself.

That is a _very_ distracting thought _indeed_ ; Tobirama deliberately settles his breathing and tries to settle the rest of him, with rather less success. Izuna keeps _looking_ at him as she dries herself off and dresses in tabi, a silk crepe undershirt, a black silk shirt with relatively modest sleeves and numerous embroidered crests, then donning a matching set of short hakama.

"Why are they shorter?" He asks as Izuna pulls out a stool and sits on it. Maybe the information will help him stop thinking about undressing her again. And the other distracting thoughts, such as what else she could show and do while on that stool in nothing but her skin.

"So I can wear them with shin guards," Izuna says easily, producing a pair of black linen gaiters from the pile of garments set out beside the wash-stand and tying them on from ankle to just below the knee, securing the hakama hems firmly in place and creating a slightly ballooning effect that Tobirama recognises from both the red silk wedding outfit and Madara's black outfit, which now that Tobirama thinks about it was probably identically put together as this. Which, if Izuna is wearing it for a _formal_ visit to the Senju…

"What's this outfit called?"

"It's the ceremonial dress for an Imperial General; yoroi hitatare."

Tobirama swallows dryly. Well, that's… worrying. Especially since he _didn't_ recognise it. "Will you be wearing _just_ your greaves then?" Madara visited him in _ceremonial dress?_

"As the officially wronged party and therefore the head of the delegation, yes," Izuna says, getting to her feet and bouncing in place to check everything is well-secured. "Madara and the others will be wearing full armour though."

"Not coats?" Tobirama can't remember _ever_ seeing an Uchiha on the battlefield without their coat. Well, not by _choice_ at least.

"It's the wrong kind of formal for coats," Izuna says opaquely, then clarifies: "we need to be visible and it also needs to clearly _not_ be an assault, so no coats. Well, other than mine, but I'll be wearing it reversed and taking if off before we reach sight of the Senju compound, then having somebody carry it for me."

"Who is 'we' in this instance?"

"Myself, the other Lineage Heads, a small honour guard; no more than twenty overall, I should think."

Twenty is _more_ than enough to utterly destroy then Senju compound when they include both Madara and Izuna, even though Izuna will not be wearing armour; Izuna, as was made _abundantly_ clear last night, does not _need_ regular steel armour.

He needs to do _something_ to signal to his family that he is still well, and also that he supports Izuna in her mercy of granting them a week before taking things to the daimyo. Something to assure them that this _is_ the right choice, that things _will_ go well for them if they agree to this. But what _can_ he do? He can't write a letter and any mark or token he gives Izuna will be assumed to have been stolen by force.

Except.

Tobirama gnaws on his lower lip as Izuna walks past him and opens the fusuma panels that are on the right if one is facing towards the iori, revealing another equally large room _full_ of shelves piled high with books, scrolls and trinkets, at least two desks and three armour stands lined up neatly along the far wall, which has a single pair of shōji panels.

Izuna's own armour and weapons, his next to it and Tōka's closest to the shōji. This is clearly Izuna's study, the only other room he cannot enter; his and his cousin's armour and weapons may as well be on the _moon_.

But. It _does_ give him an idea.

"Izuna?"

His wife turns, half-crouching to tie on her greaves. "Yes, Treasure?"

"Would you please give Tōka-nee her sword back?"

Izuna looks up. "Just her sword?"

"Just her sword." Yes, his cousin _will_ miss her armour and other weapons –and her sandals as well– but the sword is what _matters_. Sandals are more easily replaced than armour, but to _earn_ the money for a new set of armour –or repay it if somebody stands her a loan– she will need her sword.

"If she will take it from my hands, I will give it to her."

"That's fair." He wouldn't want Izuna to _throw_ his cousin's sword; that would be terribly disrespectful to the fine blade Tokonoma-ji commissioned for his daughter's twentieth birthday.

Both greaves fastened on, Izuna turns to tie on her own sword. Swords; both the usual tachi with its new cyan cords and the shorter nodachi which he hasn't seen her use –as a lone blade– since she was fourteen or so.

The hilt-wrapping cords of the short sword don't match either the tachi's hilt or the tying cords. It bothers him. "I didn't realise you still had the nodachi, or I'd have made cords for it as well."

"Ah well, I don't really have many occasions to wear _both_ ," Izuna says lightly. "I'm a shinobi after all, not a samurai, so it's formal events only." She pauses. "But if it matters to you, I can probably get some plain cords dyed and dried before I leave as a stop-gap."

"It matters to me."

Izuna nods, like that's a perfectly good reason to send kinsmen with better things to do running around and doing a rush dye-lot to some silk cords that will only be used once. It's strange and warming to not _have_ to explain himself, for 'I care' to be _enough_.

Well, if she agreed to this, and to Tōka's sword, he may as well ask for the moon as well. All she can say is 'no' after all. "Lord-Wife."

She straightens, the cyan around her waist a brilliant contrast to the black of her outfit. "Yes, Treasure?"

Tobirama takes a steadying breath. "I want my kinsmen to know that I fully believe that acceding to your demands is the best course of action."

Izuna watches him patiently, chakra neither triumphant nor disapproving; merely waiting for whatever he is about to ask her.

"I request that my wife grant me the freedom to summon, so that one of my leopards can accompany you on this venture."

His wife's eyes brighten. "So it was not _just_ your mother who was a summoner." She smiles. "I have no fundamental objection, but you will be summoning in a fuuinjutsu-enclosed space, with Madara-nii supervising. Then, if your summons agrees, they may accompany us so long as they agree to do no harm to myself or any other Uchiha present."

"The leopards are not a combat summons," Tobirama clarifies; "I am not permitted to ask them to fight." Not without forfeiting the contract.

Izuna raises an eyebrow at him. "But if they thought I would do you harm, might they not attack me regardless?"

Tobirama hesitates. His wife chuckles.

"Just so. No doubt several of the Cats will also supervise and might even deign to mediate; but that is at their discretion, not mine. So yes, concubine mine; I will permit you to try. However I will not promise success, because that is not up to me."

"That is more than enough." He has _missed_ Tōnari and she will no doubt be _delighted_ to join in a scheme to unseat his father, as well as by the prospect of cubs. Once she is here she will likely stay for as long she can, and if she is sufficiently inoffensive to the Uchiha and their cat summons for the duration then he may well be permitted to summon her _again_.

* * *

Tobirama's new room is opposite Izuna's, across the main room rather than merely adjacent; another sign that she sees him as an equal spouse rather than a subordinate one. The fusuma of the large, airy room bright with morning sunlight are painted in a much more fluid and less formal style, with running water and plants from every season, as well as a range of animals and birds. Not as brightly intricate as the Diplomatic Quarters and very clearly by a different artist, but no less lovely. More to Tobirama's tastes, in fact; less busy and more restful.

His room contains his tansu, his book-basket, his weaving stand and his work-basket, as well as a new and much sturdier screen for him to change behind, a wash-stand with a bowl and jug, and his vase standing on a low chest and containing a trio of thistles, stems cut to different lengths to create an aesthetic arrangement.

There is, as he was warned, no futon or bedding. But the room is already larger than even the tatami room of the Diplomatic Quarters and he has free range of most of the rest of the house as well, along with the garden. Even if he is still confined, it's a much larger prison.

He hangs the new sleeping yukata over the screen, washes quickly –he is still mostly clean from last night's bath– then considers his options. What does he _want_ to wear?

He will be seeing Tōnari; he chooses the green kimono as an outer layer. However this house is _not_ heated as the Diplomatic Quarters are and today is overcast, if still warm, so the shrimp kimono will do as a dōnuki layer between the green outer layer and the white silk nagajuban. He will wear the half-width obi, both because it is easy to tie and because the pale blue and dull grey-green will contrast nicely with both the rich green and the dawn pink.

His purple plum-blossom-print house slippers were waiting for him beside Izuna's futon; his sandals are doubtless in the genkan, both the purple zori and his combat sandals.

So the only question that remains is, does he wear tabi or not?

Well Izuna is wearing tabi and no doubt intends to put her battle-sandals on over them regardless, so there's no reason why he can't do likewise and join Kiso-kun in the garden until Izuna returns from her errands and Madara arrives to supervise the promised summoning attempt.

Tobirama isn't touching the fact that Tajima has at _no point_ been mentioned. He doesn't _want_ to know what that means, whether Izuna's father is excluded for some political reason or is perfectly willing to allow his daughter free rein in this since not participating will grant him a degree of deniability if things go wrong. Whichever it is, it doesn't matter.

Dressing in kimono is a ritual, but one he is increasingly practiced in. It takes less time now to put on three layers than it used to take him to don two, so much regular practice enabling him to dress without really thinking about it much.

As a result he only really notices the metal clips when he already has three of them holding his outer kimono in place, and has to stop and breathe deeply to steady himself.

He will think about this _later_. Right now he needs to finish dressing so he can explore his new home and join Kiso-kun in the garden.

Tobirama fumbles the clips twice in short order after resuming, but does manage to make himself suitably presentable in not too much time. Then he sets out to explore.

* * *

The house is large. Very large for just two adults, one toddler and two kinswomen who only visit for half-days. The large rectangular main room with the sunken hearth is at the centre of the building, Izuna's bedroom on the western side and Tobirama's to the east with the kitchen to the north and an entrance hall to the south. Off the entrance hall is the genkan facing directly south, with Izuna's study through the shōji to the west and an empty room to the east that is probably intended as the workspace of the lady of the house, were it a normal family living here. That room has a mix of solid walls and shōji facing both east and south across the large garden, allowing plenty of light to come in; Tobirama moves his book-basket and braiding materials into it, along with his vase, through the connecting fusuma.

The room is not _entirely_ empty, but the low, shallow half-width tansu containing only floor cushions does not really count to Tobirama's mind. His vase with its thistles does look nice standing on it though.

His own scrolls and books in his former house are likely long gone, but there is plenty of room in here for shelves and Izuna probably won't mind buying him texts on hydrology, geology and the other sciences. The waxed tablets she gave him –propped up in the book basket– are slow and have limited space, but it's much better than nothing to write on at all, even though his notes are inherently transient.

His sword is across the entrance hall, so close yet so far away. He will likely never lay hands on it again.

Tobirama shakes his head sharply and sets about exploring the rest of the building. Izuna will be back soon to supervise his summoning attempt.


	27. Chapter 27

When Izuna returns –after not much time at all, honestly; she's gone barely an hour– she has many more people with her than Tobirama was expecting. A full dozen people, most of them unfamiliar but all without coats, armour ranging from brightly elaborate to modestly plain.

Actually, if you split the group of Uchiha drifting in and standing around the edge of the square meadow with its clover and other low-growing flowers –bounded on two sides by Izuna's bedroom and the small western wing of the building– by how elaborate their armour is, and exclude Madara as an outlier –seeing as he is his father's heir– then it is easy to see who present is a Head of a Lineage like Izuna and who is not. The four warriors with Madara –Jakuchi, another man and two evident teenagers, one of whom has a tattoo running almost from ear to ear right across their nose– are all in plain armour lacquered brown, deep blue, black and dull red, while the rest of the group have elaborate figured designs. One man even has Raijin, complete with his ring of drums supported by clouds, in the middle of his breastplate.

How ironic, that they wear such beautiful armour but almost nobody outside their clan has ever seen it, because they wear their coats over the top. It's very closely fitted too, more so than anything Tobirama's ever seen elsewhere, for all that the quartet in plain armour all still have fire-proof wraps over their greaves and forearm guards as though they intend to wear their coats later.

Of those in the elaborate armour, he recognises Hikaku wearing crows and sunbursts, Taka whose armour is decorated with a vividly realistic white skeleton on a dark ground, Madara wearing phoenixes and fireballs, and of course Izuna.

His wife waves him over; Tobirama walks up to her, conscious of Kiso-kun clinging to his neck and pressing his face into Tobirama's shoulder. The toddler had been absolutely fine until all these strangers started arriving, at which point he'd abandoned his games to cling and hide against Tobirama's thigh. That hadn't been practical for walking so Tobirama had picked him up, leading to their current situation. He's glad Kiso-kun is still small; getting choked to death by a toddler in front of all these Heads of Lineage would be very embarrassing.

"Taka-sempai, my concubine Tobirama of Amaterasu," his wife says, formally presenting him to the woman who menaced him over the fence of the Diplomatic Quarters about a month ago. "Tobirama-san, Taka of Yomotsushikome, Lineage Head."

Tobirama bows, careful to cradle Kiso-kun's head and behind so the toddler doesn't get jarred by the movement. Taka bows back, face and chakra politely blank.

"Hikaku-kun you know already," Izuna continues, nodding to her cousin before turning to walk past Taka towards the clump of ambiguously-aged men. "Kinsmen, Tobirama of Amaterasu, my concubine. Tobirama-san, allow me to present Raibachi of Raiden, Miune of Inari, Iwasaku of Kōjin, Echigo of Toyotama and Ahoro of Konjin, Lineage Heads."

Tobirama bows again, murmuring the appropriate pleasantries. Ahoro is visibly younger than the rest of the group, most of whom have beards or moustaches of varying shapes and sizes. The exception is Echigo the Toyotama Head, who is clean-shaven and whose armour is decorated with a complex scale pattern in five different colours. He's a little disappointed there isn't a cat-themed lineage, but then again maybe the cats don't care to limit their interference like that.

Izuna then leads him on to Madara and his warriors. "Tobirama-san, my Niisan and Jakuchi you are already familiar with, so these are Zaō, Matsuda and Kamui of the Uchiha clan."

Do they have plain armour because they have no lineage, or purely because they are _not_ heads of line or heirs to such? Tobirama resolves to ask later.

"Zaō, Matsuda, Kamui, my concubine Tobirama of Amaterasu." All three bow more deeply to Tobirama than he does to them, and then the introductions are over and Madara and Matsuda engage Izuna in a technical discussion using a lot of words that Tobirama can't really decipher the meaning of in this context. Yes, it's evidently fuuinjutsu related, or at least _some_ of it is; there are moments when Matsuda and Izuna lose Madara, and just as many where Madara and Izuna lose Matsuda.

Kamui meanwhile softly greets Kiso-kun as 'baby cousin,' prompting the toddler to peek cautiously up at her. Taking this as permission, the teenage possibly-a-girl begins a friendly monologue about what other shared cousins are getting up to –mostly trading outside Fire Country with their parents– and when they will be back at home; next month, from about the summer solstice. The sheer number of names is dizzying, never mind the many repetitions –fifteen Naka variations and at least another twenty names that are used at least twice with different suffixes attached– and Tobirama gets profoundly lost in short order, but Kiso-kun seems to find the outpouring of data reassuring, in that he loosens his grip on Tobirama's neck and sticks his thumb in his mouth.

When the teenager finally wraps up with a mention of a returning sea trip from Moon Country, Kiso-kun takes his thumb out of his mouth.

"Keigesu-tan wif Shi-ushi-ba," he says softly, the first words Tobirama has heard from him, "but am goin' to be nii-tan b'fore New Year. Izuna-tama pomised."

"That's wonderful news, Kiso-kun!" Kamui says warmly, beaming at the toddler and holding out a hand, which Kiso-kun briefly grabs and presses against his chest before releasing again. "We all know Izuna-sama is a warrior of their word."

Kiso-kun nods, then sticks his thumb back in his mouth and buries his face in Tobirama's collar again, apparently done with words for the day. Kamui's eyes slide up to meet Tobirama's for the first time yet, narrow slightly –her chakra turns over uneasily– and then she says her goodbyes to the toddler and takes a few steps over to Jakuchi to ask him about patrols.

"Right then, that's settled," Izuna says, her tone catching Tobirama's attention. He turns as he feels her walking towards him, just in time for her to arrive in arm's reach. "Kiso-kun, can I take you for a moment? Tobirama-san needs to demonstrate a jutsu." She holds out her hands.

Kiso-kun takes a moment, just enough time to make it clear that he is only doing this because he is a good boy and not because he _wants_ to, then squirms around and half-leaps into Izuna's arms; she cradles him easily against her chest, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"An excellent leap!" She praises, then looks up at Tobirama. "Treasure, if you stand in the middle of the meadow I can raise a ring around you."

Tobirama steps closer to kiss her, just because he knows she'll let him despite their audience of powerful and respected shinobi, then turns around and walks into the middle of the grassy area, which is about the right size for a small combat class to train in despite being in a residential garden.

Then Izuna taps her foot and the world _shifts_ , his little circle of grass still sunlit and clear but everything beyond the golden boundary line surrounding him at a three metre radius vaguely smeared. This is not just a barrier jutsu; it is _space-time_ fuuinjutsu.

Typical Izuna, to use space-time fuuinjutsu when something simpler would more than suffice. She over-engineers everything, it would seem. To his clan's detriment right now, but that is harder to care about today than it was yesterday.

Izuna, her face more a pale blob that anything else now, waves a fuzzy hand at him then closes her eyes. There's a moment for Tobirama to feel achingly, _desperately_ hopeful, then chakra trickles through his chakra gates, barely enough for the smallest water jutsu but _plenty_ for a familiar summoning. It's such a _relief_ to feel his chakra running through him again; Tobirama knows he's beaming like a fool but can't help it.

Quickly wiping away the tears trickling down his face –which thankfully won't show through that barrier– Tobirama bites one finger and runs through the handsigns of the summoning jutsu, making sure to keep enough back to heal the wound afterwards.

Tōnari materialises in a ripple of chakra smoke, turning a quick circle on herself then launching herself at him and knocking him flat on his back; rather to be expected after going so long between summonings. "Tobira-cub! Tobira-cub where have you _been!_ And what on _earth_ are you doing in cat territory?" She sniffs at him, rubbing her face against his chest. "Cub you're mated? Is this why you've not come calling on us? You've been too busy setting up a home? Where's the cub? You smell like cub, introduce me!"

Tobirama throws his arms around Tōnari's neck and buries his face in her ruff, abruptly overwhelmed. "Missed you, Tōnari-ba," he whispers, throat tight.

"Oh cub," the leopard murmurs, settling firmly on his chest and purring softly, "what _have_ you been getting up to? Don't think I can't smell that binding on you; did that wooden-headed brother of yours finally get his act together and murder your father, then turn around and decide a marriage alliance would be just the thing for his cloud-castle reconciliation plans?"

Tobirama chokes, sniggers and shakes his head helplessly, face still buried in Tōnari's fur. "No, nothing like that," he manages eventually. "I got abducted off the battlefield by Izuna, because she wants to have cubs with me."

Tōnari shifts back so she's sitting upright over his legs, giving him space to also sit up. "See, I _told_ you that a strong, respected opponent was a good choice of mate," she says smugly. "And don't tell me you're not enjoying yourself, I can smell it on you."

"I said nothing, Tōnari-ba," Tobirama replies weakly. "But that's why I've not been able to summon you; our clans are still at war, and Izuna knows me too well to let me wander around unbound."

"But you _are_ being allowed to summon me now." She eyes him shrewdly. "What changed, Tobira-cub?"

Tobirama takes a deep breath. "My father sent five kinsmen to assassinate me last night," he says, proud that his voice does not shake at all. "Izuna is going to express her displeasure and return the bodies of the dead, and I would like you to go with her, so the clan knows I fully support her actions and am endorsing the mercy she is offering them."

Tōnari bristles furiously. "Tried to murder you? I _told_ you to kill him first, cub! I _told_ you! And now look at this mess you're in." She sighs and shakes herself. "Of course I'll go with your mate, cub."

"She's pregnant." Best to get that clarified _now_ , so Tōnari won't be loudly embarrassing when Izuna takes the barrier down.

The leopard perks up, leaping off him and bounding in an excited circle around him. "Cubs! You're having more cubs! Well what are you waiting for, introduce me! Both to your mate and the foster-cub, so I can ask to visit again," she nuzzles the back of his head, forcing him forwards; without chakra reinforcement he is truly at the mercy of her forceful attentions, which is no doubt visible even through the fuuinjutsu. "Cubs are a family affair after all!"

Tobirama gets up onto his knees, then rises to his feet, reaching down to rub Tōnari behind the ears as she presses against his thigh. "I am sure Izuna will be amenable, provided the cats don't object." He doesn't know anything about the cat summons, but Tōnari indicating the Uchiha compound is 'cat territory' implies something rather more than the usual summons-summoner relationship. Which would fit with there not being a specific cat summoning lineage, although he suspects that there's still something of a family line. Summons like continuity.

Tōnari huffs. " _Cats_ ," she mutters darkly. "But you're _mine_ , so they'd _better_ not object."

Summons politics are not something he's ever asked after before, but it can wait; it's waited this long, after all. Tobirama walks up to the edge of the circle, Tōnari beside him, and waves at Izuna.

Izuna waves back, a heavily-spiked blur that must be Madara beside her, then backs up quite a distance. Sensible; Tobirama ignores the faint pang of hurt. Izuna _does_ trust him –more than she should really– but their audience do _not_ and this is more for their benefit, no doubt.

Then the circle is down and Tōnari bounds forward, only to collide with Madara's abruptly-present gunbai. "A moment please, Yukihyō-san," the Uchiha Heir says calmly as a ginger cat appears from behind his ankles. Tōnari, all puffed up in indignation, abruptly deflates.

"Tora-sama."

The summons grins, a _most_ unnerving expression on a cat and it being a normal-sized cat makes it so much worse somehow. "Tōnari-chan; you won't be giving Izuna-bi any trouble, will you? Her first litter is spoken for."

"Cats, always assuming every pregnancy is going to involve multiple births," Madara sighs. The ginger cat ignores him with lofty feline smugness, eyes on Tōnari and grin steady. The leopard gathers herself again, shaking out her fur.

"Tobira-cub's mate is _kin_ ," she says huffily, "and so are her cubs, be they fostered, born or unborn, no matter _which_ contract they are signed upon."

Tora-sama the potential Cat Boss –the only _other_ summons Tobirama has ever heard Tōnari refer to as 'sama' is Ak Barusu-sama, the Boss Leopard– makes a faintly smug noise. "Well, you heard Tōnari-chan, Madara-bō."

Madara glares down at the cat for referring to him with such a childish suffix, but the gunbai is swung up behind his back, vanishing entirely once the handle is tucked behind his wrist. Izuna's work or something older? Tobirama discards the idle speculation, moving closer as Tōnari bounds up to Izuna, pauses about a body-length away and sits upright, tail swaying in delighted interest.

"Hello!" The leopard carols. "I'm Tōnari-hyō! I'm delighted to meet Tobira-cub's mate! Please introduce me to your cub!"

"Greetings, Tōnari-hyō," Izuna says gravely as in her arms Kiso-kun turns around to stare at the leopard. "I am Izuna of Amaterasu, Lineage Head of the Uchiha Clan, and this is Kiso, also of the Uchiha clan. We are both very pleased to make your acquaintance, aren't we Kiso-kun?"

The toddler nods, thumb still firmly in his mouth but eyes wide and fascinated. Then he spots Tobirama and takes his thumb out of his mouth in order to reach towards him with both hands.

Tobirama hurries closer and accepts the toddler; Tōnari eyes him knowingly then turns her attention back to Izuna. "Tora-sama called you Izuna-bi," she notes, "and Tobira-cub told me you're expecting! Everybody's going to be so pleased he's settled down. And he's _much_ less stressed now, which is definitely good to see." She smirks up at him over her shoulder. "It's good to see you have a mate who looks after you properly, Tobira-cub!"

Tobirama rolls his eyes. "Tōnari-ba, _must_ you?"

"Of course I must," she says smugly. "Now Tobira-cub said his father tried to kill him, so are _you_ going to kill him, Izuna-bi? I've been telling Tobira-cub he needs to do it for _years_ but he keeps ignoring me."

"Patricide gets very messy for humans, Tōnari-hyō," Izuna says blandly. "We're not made to withstand it."

The leopard rolls her eyes. "Oh, if you say so," she dismisses easily. "Now, murder?" She bounces, making her eyes wide and pleading.

"I _could_ ," Izuna agrees, baring her teeth, "but I want to make the Senju Clan _squirm_ for a bit. Senju Butsuma is _their_ problem after all, not mine, and filicide is no less frowned upon than patricide."

"I like you a _lot_ ," Tōnari declares, the traitor. She circles Izuna's legs twice, then bounces off to one side. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Izuna chuckles, then leans in to kiss Tobirama again. "Fresh silk's being dyed for you," she says, reminding him of the promised change in sword ties. He glances down –the nodachi's new cyan hilt wraps have the slightly blotchy look of a rush job but it shouldn't be so obvious at a distance– then leans in to kiss her back.

"Come home soon."

Izuna smirks at him. "Of course; I have promises to keep," she says smugly, leaning in for one last –and rather _less_ chaste– kiss before ruffling Kiso-kun's hair and darting off, bounding out of the garden with a single chakra-enhanced leap. Tōnari darts after her, the rest of the Uchiha Lineage Heads also giving chase and Madara and his squad vanishing after them, leaving Tobirama alone with Kiso-kun in his arms.

He licks his tingling lips, then sets the toddler down on the grass. "Want to show me the garden, Kiso-kun?"

The toddler grabs his hand and nods firmly. "Hn!"

"Well lead on then." His wife should be back before lunchtime, even if she stands outside the Senju compound and shouts for an hour.

* * *

Izuna steps back into the grounds of the house as Tobirama has one hand firmly gripping Kiso-kun's leading-strings, ensuring the toddler does _not_ fall into the pond as he enthusiastically feeds the koi. The realisation of her arrival is almost a distraction, except that Tobirama is _very_ good at not being distracted by very distracting things; he has a lifetime of practice at blocking Anija out, he can keep his attention on Kiso-kun's perilous wobbling in time with the boy's adorable but erratic throwing despite desperately needing to know what happened.

This would be so much easier with chakra. He could walk Kiso onto the pond, so the boy could just drop the food and giggle as the koi nibble at his bare toes; something he vaguely remembers his own mother doing with him. But after she died the koi all vanished from the pond, not returning until Mito married his brother and put up fuuinjutsu to protect her new fish from predatory depredations.

Even now, Mito's koi are the only fish in the entire Senju compound and neighbouring area; the vassals can't even keep them in the rice fields, having to make do with frogs and newts to keep the pests down. Odd; Tobirama's never really thought about it before, but that's a bit unusual. The Uchiha are managing to breed fish just fine, after all.

Izuna comes into view on the garden path just as Tōnari bounds up beside him. "Ooh, koi!" She licks her chops.

"No stealing Uchiha fish," Tobirama says automatically, waving back at Izuna as she waves to him before heading into the house, no doubt to change out of her formalwear.

Tōnari huffs at him, then pointedly turns away to sprawl on the grass next to Kiso-kun, who empties out the last of the millet, vegetable ends and dead caterpillars over the nearer koi then turns to stare at the leopard. "You may pet my fur," Tōnari says magnanimously, "but no pulling!"

Kiso nods, sets the empty bowl down, wipes his hands on his trousers then reaches out to carefully smooth the leopard's fur over the back of her head. Tobirama lets go of the toddler's stitched-on shirt-strings now that the possibility of a sudden swim has lessened and Kiso-kun immediately wraps both arms around Tōnari's neck, snuggling under her jaw and petting her neck. Tōnari purrs approvingly, rubbing her chin on the toddler's back to scent him and curling her front paws around him.

"Kiso-kun, I'm going into the house," Tobirama says, tapping the boy's hand to get his attention. "Tōnari-ba will stay outside with you."

"Hn," Kiso-kun hums agreeably, currently fascinated by the feel of the leopard's fur and completely happy to be abandoned. Tobirama picks up the discarded bowl, brushes off his kimono and heads indoors; he suddenly can't wait another minute to find out what happened.

He finds Izuna just stripping out of her black silks, greaves laid out over the wash-stand and her daylily-yellow spun silk kimono hanging over the screen along with the red half-width obi, which is not actually as plain as it looks at first or even second glance: there are shades of red there, almost impossibly subtle, forming a woven checked pattern.

"Wife?"

She turns and, seeing something on his face, steps forward to grab him by the hand and draw him behind the screen for a hug. "Nobody died, Treasure," she assures him, rocking gently as the reality of the situation hits him all at once and he shivers in her arms. "Nobody even got _bruised_ , I promise." She kisses his neck behind his ear, then pulls back slightly so as to kiss his cheek and jaw, gentle dry butterfly-soft touches.

He trusts her, he _does_ –Izuna has not once lied to him _ever_ – but in his heart he is _so afraid_ for his family. This is it; this week will either grant them Anija's peace or wipe their clan from the face of the earth.

"Please," he asks, not even sure _what_ he's asking. "Please," what _does_ he want? He kisses her back, feeling his blood surge under his skin; does he want assurance? Distraction? A salve for his aching uncertainty on whether he should somehow be doing _more_ for his family?

"Ravishing you _after_ lunch, Treasure," Izuna murmurs, stepping back with a regretful pang in her chakra. "Need to put Kiso-kun down for a nap first."

Tobirama steps closer, resting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her naked upper body. He wants…

"You saw Anija? And my family?" Are they all still alive? He can't tell; he doesn't _know_ for the first –well, second– time in his life and it's _horrendous_. Worse than last time, almost. People live like this? Having to hope and guess rather than just _know_ what's happening?

Izuna softens against him. "I did; I even gave Tōka-san her sword back. Would you like me to show you?"

She means with a genjutsu. "Yes, very much."

"Well then, let me put my clothes on and I will."

Tobirama reluctantly lets go, pressing one last kiss to the bare top on her shoulder then retreating back out into the main bedroom; watching her dress won't help him settle himself.

Admittedly sitting on the floor listening to the soft sounds of silk over skin and Izuna's idle humming is not much _better_ , but having been promised that he will get to _see_ his family, Tobirama's nerves very soon erode his desire away to a shadow. When Izuna finally emerges Tobirama gets quickly to his feet, meeting her eyes expectantly.

"Well?"

"So eager, Treasure," Izuna says, but it's soft not teasing. She holds out a hand; Tobirama takes it, keeping his eyes on hers as she moves close, eyes bleeding red and tomoe blooming, then spinning. Her other hand rises to cradle his chin as though for a kiss, then Tobirama is standing outside the Senju compound in his green kimono and house slippers, looking at his family.

The first thing he notices is that the light is _intensely_ strange; colours are brighter, details are sharper and some things are almost _glowing_. The sunlight is impossibly vibrant, picking out details and textures Tobirama has never noticed before, and even the shadows have subtle shades to them.

Fingers grip his; Tobirama jumps, then looks sideways to see Izuna in her yellow kimono. Izuna, who is _not_ vibrantly, improbably colourful and very much stands out as a result, drab and flat compared to the rest of the illusion, making it very clear that it _is_ an illusion.

"Why don't you match?" He asks.

Izuna shrugs. "This," she waves around them, "is what I see. But this," she taps her chest," is what you see."

"Even without sharingan?" That would explain a _lot_ about how most visual illusions on Uchiha fail almost instantly, only good for a split-second distraction to obscure their line of sight. This is more akin to the illusions of the bird summons in terms of colour and intensity. Who would have thought that even their _base vision_ was so different?

"Even without sharingan; it builds on what we see already."

Tobirama turns back to look at the tableau in the open main gates of the compound, which mostly exist for the benefit of over-aweing customers, and the massed ranks of more distant kinsmen beyond it. "Can I walk closer?"

Izuna shrugs, so drab and faded in this vivid world she looks like a ghost. "This is as close as I got, so the sharpness of the image will not improve unless I enhance it with memories of other encounters with those present, which will in turn make the memory less faithful."

Implied is that it was _this_ encounter that Tobirama wanted to see, not a fabrication. So Izuna will not fabricate details unless he asks her to. He appreciates the distinction.

"Can you show me all of what happened?"

Izuna eyes him. "I can," she concedes, "but you won't like it."

"I _already_ don't like it," Tobirama says honestly, "but knowing what happened will give me a better of idea of what might come next." All he has right now are dread and half-formed fears. Having more information, _reliable_ information, would put many of his fears to rest, even though he knows it will make the rest of them better-founded and harder to ignore.

"And you want to feel in control," Izuna murmurs. "I understand, Treasure; very well."

The illusion smears, and then Tobirama is a disembodied spirit seeing the Senju compound appear between the trees through Izuna's eyes.

* * *

Lunch is rice balls again, and Izuna thankfully takes up the burden of conversation, as well as clarifying what is happening this afternoon. Kiso-kun will be having a nap after the meal –the toddler pouts at the reminder but does not object– and then when Hayami-chan arrives in the afternoon, she will hand Kiso-kun over to Naka-Scallion for playtime until dinner.

Tōnari, sprawled on the engawa having eaten two fish in quick succession, agrees that naptime is a wonderful thing and that she will be sleeping with 'Kiso-kit'. The prospect of having a fully-grown snow leopard summons to cuddle with for his nap curtails Kiso-kun's objections entirely; the small futon and associated stuffed toy are moved to Tobirama's room and Tōnari winks at him as she curls around the toddler, the fabric dog carefully set out next to the fusuma so as to be 'on guard'.

Izuna is still in the kitchen, sleeves tied back with tasuki and an apron over her kimono as she washes up. "Feel free to use the bathhouse, Treasure," she says, smiling up at him distractedly; there are a few pots still on the heat, but Tobirama guesses those are intended for dinnertime.

The bathhouse is vaguely familiar; it's the same one Izuna took him to last night. He doesn't use the pool this time, just the section with the showers, and it doesn't take him many moments to work out how the fuuinjutsu works. It responds to _touch_ , not to chakra, and has several limitations on it, such as that the water can't be adjusted too hot and stops running automatically if a person steps off the wooden grate over the drains.

It's very clever, but Tobirama can't focus on it. He has a water-wheel of dread turning in his mind, replaying the very different expressions on his family's faces as Izuna made her demands and his father allowed his hatred to overcome his reason. His father and his constant derision of those who allow emotion to overcome duty; the hypocrisy is stunning to witness. He has a _duty_ to the clan he leads!

He watched the entire conversation several times, so as to fully process the reactions of everybody present. His father's denial and dismissive scorn, Anija's horror and ignorant confusion, Tokonoma-ji's concern and well-concealed anger, his grandmother's shock, rage and bitter disappointment, Mito-nee's bland-masked fury, Sumi-ba's impenetrably demure façade –which is in itself a _very bad_ sign– Ōka-ba's calculating frown and incredulity at her brother's decisions, Tanka-ba's lip-biting unease, Rika-ba's bitter understanding and frustration, Yuta-ba's dread, the wariness on the faces of his father's lieutenants… and Tōka's grim, resigned determination.

It is very likely that his father _will_ be dead before the end of the week. However that death is more likely to be in the style of the murder mystery game Izuna brought to the Diplomatic Quarters to play with him and Tōka than a proper formal Challenge, with more suspects than witnesses and everybody covering for everybody else. He's not even sure who will get in first; Sumi-ba might, having had many disagreements with his father over the years –often over Tokyōma and his high-strung squeamishness– so has likely at least _thought_ about murder before now, if of course never put it into practice.

It won't be Hashirama doing it, at least. Anija very clearly does not grasp the severity of the situation, possibly believing that if it _does_ go to the daimyo they can talk about it and untangle the misunderstandings. He doesn't understand that the daimyo will not be _interested_ in talking to the Senju at that point; the situation well _past_ where polite discussion will be possible. Izuna has set up her web all too well: should news of his father's crime reach the court, the daimyo will feel humiliated by his letter of congratulations to the Senju Head. He will feel deceived and taken advantage of, which are never good emotions to incite in those who have power over you.

Given the situation, it might well be Zōden or one of the other senior warriors doing the deed, out of loyalty to the clan. Even if it's murder, not a Challenge; taking the fall so that Anija can ascend with clean hands. Tobirama would prefer that, honestly; he doesn't _want_ his aunts and uncles conspiring to kill his father, and Baasan doing it would be _worse_. And Baasan _could_.

He doesn't want his family eating itself. He doesn't want the horror and pain that will bring, the shadows it will put in the faces of his cousins. He can see all too well the rifts her father killing her uncle has carved into Izuna's family: the shadows in both her eyes and Hikaku's, the almost wilfully blind care and support Madara offers his sister, a stubborn promise that he will _never_ do that to her and a desperate plea that she trust him.

It could break Hashirama's heart and hope. His brother is foolishly, stubbornly hopeful, but for the peace between their clans to be built on their father's murder at the hands of close kin… it is a very poor start.

Thoroughly clean, Tobirama dries off and puts the bathing yukata back on, trudging back into the house. He doesn't want to think about this anymore. It makes him want to weep.

Izuna's not currently in the kitchen; possibly in an underground storeroom, going by the open hatch leading under the engawa opposite the bathhouse side. He can sense she's within the grounds of the house, but where exactly is… fuzzy. Tobirama walks into the main room, passes the iori then lets himself into Izuna's bedroom; Kiso-kun is asleep on the other side of the house, and Tobirama already has proof that the toddler sleeps very deeply.

Bringing in Izuna's futon from where it was airing, Tobirama lays it out on the floor, closes the shōji then takes off the bathing yukata and sprawls on the sheets, face-down. It's new, smelling of hemp fibre and cotton and only very faintly of Izuna and himself. Just of sweat and sleep, not of sex; not like his futon does.

Did. He's probably not getting that futon back. Doesn't _want_ it back, not when it was blood-soaked and he would be able to _smell_ that, no matter how many times it is washed.

Izuna's presence focuses in the kitchen; Tobirama is abruptly aware that he's lying naked on his wife's bed, and that has _implications_. He chose to walk into her room, _chose_ to strip naked and lay himself out on her sheets for her use and pleasure. Soon she will walk in and see him, see what he has chosen to do and then–

Here is the anticipation and heady lust from before lunchtime, returned with interest. Tobirama shifts slightly so he's more comfortable, Izuna's promise to _thoroughly_ ravish him hot in his mind and sending his imagination in enticing and speculative directions; will she take her time teasing him until he's incoherent and begging for release? Or will she drag him repeatedly over that peak as swiftly as she can, running roughshod over his senses?

Tobirama shudders as Izuna leaves the kitchen, walking briefly to the bathhouse –the side with the toilet and an outside sink– then back into the main building. Should he turn over, so she can see how _much_ he is looking forward to letting her have her way with him? Or stay like this, giving her his back, his trust, letting her walk into the room unseen if not unnoticed?

He presses his forehead into the pillow and tries to breathe. Both ideas are _stimulating_ , but for very different reasons. He wants to do both. But today –today, so soon after that discussion on the boundaries and redefinition of consent– he will stay like this. He will make himself more vulnerable to her, to show that he understands this is _her_ space. He is here on her sufferance, for her pleasure. And he wants that. He is choosing that. She has always been so careful to make sure he is enjoying himself and to give him what he asks for when in his space, and he wants to return the favour.

He wants to find out what it is that _she_ wants. What her secret desires are. What she thinks about doing to and with him.

The fusuma behind him open; Tobirama's heart clenches and he stills, _knowing_ by the pause and the coil in her chakra that Izuna is _looking_ at him. Looking at him and _liking_ what she sees.

Looking at him and _wanting_ him.

Tobirama stays frozen and breathless as the fusuma close behind her, blood hot and heart pounding, not daring to move lest he somehow ruin the moment. There's a rustle of silk –she's _undressing_ – and it's too much; he trembles, hands fisting in the sheets as he gasps for breath.

"So lovely, Treasure," Izuna says, voice low and caressing as the faint rustle of silk against silk continues. "All laid out in my bed completely bare, strong muscles clenching under honey skin." She sighs. "I want to leave the marks of _my_ teeth all over _you_."

Tobirama _whimpers_. Oh, oh, oh; _oh fuck_.

The silken sounds stop, bare feet padding over the tatami; she's standing over him _naked_ and she wants to–

"Please," he manages. "I want–" he remembers it's not about him this time and corrects himself "–take as much time as you want, or as little. I don't, I keep _thinking_ and I know you like it when I can't anymore."

"Oh Treasure," Izuna says, warmly, _darkly_ as her chakra _flexes_ under her skin, "I have _every_ intention of making sure the only thing you can think about is what I might do next."

Then she kneels at the foot of the futon, lifts up his foot and bites his calf, sharp and stinging but not bruising then running her tongue over his skin as she kisses the indents made; Tobirama's mind is thrown into disarray at the possibility of her doing that _all over him_. His calves, his thighs, his behind –his buttocks clench in anticipation– his back, his _neck_ –

He groans into the pillow again as she bites him once more, further up his calf this time.

"Comfortable, Treasure?" She teases, sliding a slow hand up the back of his other leg.

"I can't decide," Tobirama confesses, voice rasping, "if I want to tell you to hurry up or slow down." The faint stinging and cool wetness over his calf, the firm grip of her fingers around his ankle and the teasing caresses up the back of his thigh all tangle together with heady anticipation and the throbbing ache in his groin, stoking the heat in his blood and the hunger beating in his skull.

"I am tempted," Izuna admits conversationally, "to roll you onto your back and kiss you until you scream, then go back to taking my time nibbling my way up your legs as you tremble stickily against my sheets."

Tobirama shudders again. "If it would please you, wife," he tells her hoarsely.

"It would," Izuna decides, and then Tobirama is on his back with his wife sprawled over his thighs, _kissing_ –

He's not quiet. The dark, heated ripples that shudder through his wife's chakra and tingle against every point of skin contact as he moans and begs enhance the brain-scrambling friction of her mouth and tongue, forcefully emptying his mind of _everything_ except sensation and desperate anticipation.

* * *

"How are you feeling, Treasure?"

Tobirama blinks sleepily at Izuna. He managed to stumble to the bathhouse on his own two feet, but after being washed by Izuna –who after scrubbing him down wrapped a supporting arm around his waist and tenderly but mercilessly dragged him to peak _again_ under the hot spray– and being submerged in comfortably warm water, body and mind tingling sluggishly, he's not sure he ever wants to move again.

"Tired." He manages a small smile. "Very _thoroughly_ ravished; compliments to my–" he yawns widely, jaw clicking "–my Lord-Wife, for her many accomplishments."

"Hmm." She sounds _very_ smug. "Will you be gracing my futon again in the future, Treasure?"

"Definitely." Tobirama smirks sleepily at her. "You promised I could ravish _you_ on your futon, did you not?"

Izuna's chakra sparkles in amusement, lust sprinkled lightly over the top. "We'll make a night of it sometime soon, Treasure."

"Hm." Tobirama's eyes drift closed. "Will you be changing the sheets before tucking me up in your bed again, Beautiful?"

"Would you like me to?"

It's probably a good idea, even though Tobirama has high hopes of Izuna deciding to make a mess of them –and him– again tomorrow.

"As you wish, Treasure."

Tobirama frowns vaguely. Did he say? He yawns again; loses that line of thought and slumps back, head pillowed on his folded towel.

"Sleeping in the bath again, my darling dear?" His wife's tone is soft and terribly fond.

"You're here." He's warm, tired and safe; of course he's going to sleep.

* * *

He wakes to darkness and silk on his skin, Izuna's arms wrapped around him from behind and mumbling into his shoulder about persimmons and… steel roads? The sleeping mind is truly a mystery. Kiso-kun is asleep on his little futon laid out on Tobirama's side of the bed, snoring faintly; it's an acutely adorable sound. Tōnari is not in the bedroom, but slumbering on the engawa just outside the shōji; nearby, but allowing them their privacy.

Did he miss dinner? No, he vaguely remembers fish soup, although he would think it was a dream were it not for the fact that he is _not_ ravenously hungry right now.

Fish soup. His wife _fed him_ fish soup; Tobirama feels his face flush and is glad for the darkness. She could have woken him up properly, but had chosen otherwise; he's not sure how to feel about that. Or that Tōnari saw it.

Izuna is evidently not going to stop being confusing any time soon.

What woke him? Tobirama frowns, reaching out with his senses, then cringes slightly as the answer comes from within his own mind: his dreams were less than comfortable.

The furious Uchiha undead chasing him for whatever reason had not actually been that frightening; in his dream Tobirama had been more concerned about not being able to sense Anija _anywhere_ despite the clear trail of saplings his brother had left. The subsequent Tea Ceremony had been mortifying only in that Uchiha Tajima had been serving the tea and Tobirama had realised halfway through that he was completely naked, which had made his impeccably dressed father-in-law raise a scornful eyebrow at him for taking so long to notice his own state while continuing the ceremony regardless.

After the horrible naked Tea Ceremony he'd been hiding in the chashitsu and trying to find his missing kimono under the tatami when Izuna had arrived and it had turned into a sex dream. A very pleasant sex dream, in fact, but after that he'd found himself walking the Senju compound as a ghost, unable to interact with anybody as his family all plotted and schemed against each-other, sharpening blades and preparing poisons.

That was what had woken him, the horror and deep despair of seeing his grandmother serve poisoned tea to her sons as she set a fuuinjutsu trap around them, then helplessly watching as his father beheaded her over the sweets and was then stabbed in the back by Tokonoma-ji before the trap sprung, leaving all three of them dead. It's something that _could_ happen, although in the light of day he's actually positive Baasan would be _much_ more discreet if she were to resort to murder. But it's still not something he _wants_ to happen.

Tobirama turns over, deliberately taking Izuna into his arms and letting her warmth sink into his chilled bones. That won't happen. That's not what's happening.

But his father is still vanishingly unlikely to survive the week.


	28. Chapter 28

Tobirama wakes abruptly to dawn light and the certainty that he was having a nightmare, but what the nightmare might _be_ is lost instantly; Izuna is taking advantage of the consent he offered her yesterday and the sudden awareness of his own body, her touch and her desire –its scent, how it flavours her chakra– launches him headfirst into willing reciprocation before he can pin down more than the vaguest idea of what he'd been woken up from.

Even with the fresh sheets, the futon very _definitely_ smells like him now. And like sex. Tobirama luxuriates in the knowledge of having put his mark on his wife's sleeping space and plots when to bring up again that promise of letting him ravish _her_ in here; he wants her bedding to _always_ smell like both of them, like sex and pleasure and comfort.

"Good morning," he rumbles, the vague awareness of nightmare thoroughly banished by the extremely enjoyable wakeup call.

"No complaints this morning, I trust?" Izuna teases languidly, fingers rubbing idle circles on his shoulder-blades inside his sleeping yukata. Although Tobirama is still not sure whether it can still be called a sleeping yukata when it is made of silk; yukata are usually cotton or linen.

"I feel very pleasantly ravished," Tobirama confirms smugly, taking care to keep his voice down. The encounter had been vigorous and exceedingly enjoyable, but also almost completely silent: Kiso-kun is still fast asleep on the toddler futon less than a metre away, and while he sleeps deeply it being morning means he will be more easily roused. A different kind of pleasure to making Izuna moan and beg; seeing her lock her throat and tremble almost soundlessly makes him think dark, wicked things, like the possibility of coaxing her into letting him pleasure her in the garden, shielded by the trees and shrubbery but needing to stay quiet so as not to attract unwanted attention.

There's also a small building that looks like a tea-house at the northern end of the garden, and while he's not quite shameless enough to try to talk Izuna into having sex _in_ it –yet, there may come a time for that– there's a low-lying tea-garden all around it, marked off from the rest of the grounds by a thin screen of living bamboo. If they were quiet, the sound wouldn't carry _that_ far even without fuuinjutsu.

"I have responsibilities this morning, Treasure," Izuna murmurs a while later, still comfortably snuggled against him. "But, seeing as you were not in the best state of mind to enjoy the dinner I made for you last night, I am making lunch today as well."

She made the fish soup he only half-remembers eating? Cooked it just for him? Tobirama feels warm, if a little embarrassed that he'd not been able to appreciate it properly. "I was very recently and thoroughly ravished, and tired from the night before as well," he reminds her.

"I know; I'm not blaming you," his wife says easily. "And you made happy noises when I sat across your lap and fed you, so I count myself satisfied."

Tobirama now acutely regrets his exhaustion; Tōnari is going to tease him _mercilessly_ over something he doesn't even remember in enough detail to properly enjoy. For all that she's a leopard and does not think like a human, she does now how to tease humans very effectively; she's had a lifetime of practice and play is apparently universal. "What is Kiso-kun doing today?" He needs to know so he can plan around the toddler.

"It's three days of afternoon babysitting, then four of mornings," Izuna replies comfortably, "Alternating between Naka-Scallion, Midori-chan and Moreya-jii, who I don't think you've met yet. The extra morning –which you were guest at this week– is generally a larger communal effort between various regular babysitters, so it will be somebody else's turn to supervise next week. Probably Sato-chan since Hikaku-kun moving into the Yatagarasu Residence has freed up a lot of her time; I know she was helping Chidori-nee with Bandai-nii and Norikura-nee's older ones, what with Norikura-nee having an infant to care for."

"So Naka-Scallion, Midori-chan and… your grandfather?"

"My great-uncle."

"Your great-uncle, each take Kiso-kun –and presumably some other children– for one morning and one afternoon every week, and on the last day of the week several different small babysitting groups pool their responsibilities, so nobody is doing an extra day _every_ week." Moreya-san must be in very good shape, to still be mobile enough to keep track of a toddler. Then again, Kiso-kun is a very well-behaved toddler. He knows not all of them are.

"Correct."

"So who is it today? Midori-chan again?"

"It will be, yes; do you mind keeping an eye on him until then? Tomorrow and in future weeks I will have work that can be done here, but today I need to visit others."

"I have no objections whatsoever." He has made a commitment, so getting to know Kiso-kun better is very important.

"Thank you." Izuna kisses him, then reluctantly wiggles out of his arms and out of bed. "I need to wash; Do you want to use the bathhouse after me, or would you rather I brought you a jug of warm water for your wash-stand?"

Tobirama sits up and rolls his shoulders; the left side of his neck twinges. He should take a look at that once he's clean and washed. "Can't we go together?"

"Kiso-kun's not awake yet, and once he wakes he'll need feeding _immediately_."

So yesterday's behaviour was considered normal rather than unusual. "Naka-Dragon is already preparing breakfast?" He can sense her in the kitchen.

"Yes; Kiso-kun's very regular in his habits so we've got about half an hour, but it's not appropriate to leave him alone."

"Take turns then," Tobirama decides, "so long as nobody minds my eating breakfast in yukata." He needs to wash his hair today. He's sure the salve he uses now will be in the bathhouse; Izuna was the one who gave it to him in the first place.

"I don't mind," Izuna says easily, reminding Tobirama that this is _her_ house and she is _very_ high-ranking within the clan, so nobody is likely to object to something she considers acceptable. Well, not loudly at any rate.

"Well, off you go then; I need to wash my hair."

His wife grins and leans in for a quick kiss. "I'm going!"

* * *

Most of the places Izuna bit him yesterday have faded to nothing or left only random spots of slight bruising, but the mark over the tendons on the left side of his throat –perilously close to his carotid artery– is clear and tender. Tobirama stares at it in the mirror over his wash-stand, fingers tracing its edges.

He likes it. He _really_ likes it; seeing it in the polished silver makes something in his gut sit up and take an _interest_ and he's not sure that's a good thing. He knew Izuna loved him before this; he had scented the truthfulness of her accidental confession and it shines though everything she does and says to him if he takes the care to look. But _now_ … now he _feels_ loved. It's unsettling, how big a difference that actually is. Does Izuna reciprocating like this really matter to him _that_ much? Is this one of the side-effects of the leopard contract that didn't get mentioned, like the purring he now does and definitely needs to make time to ask about?

Turning resolutely away from his mirror, Tobirama picks out his fish kimono, a cream nagajuban and, after a little thought, the shrimp kimono as a dōnuki layer again. The cream and dawn-pink will look good with the orange stiff obi and he will be comfortably –if not exactly casually– dressed.

There's a knock on the fusuma; it's Izuna. "Come in!"

His wife steps into the room, dressed in a dull blue visiting kimono painted with cheerful folding fans and kusudama, belted with the patina-green obi embroidered with temari. She leaves the fusuma half-open; open enough for a toddler to let himself in if he were so inclined. "I have time to comb your hair before I should leave, Treasure."

She half-dried his hair with chakra after breakfast, carefully running her hands through the curls so they wouldn't drip while he was getting dressed, but Tobirama had been expecting to wrestle with them for some time. Izuna tending to his hair for him is, as ever, most welcome. "Please."

"In here or on the engawa?"

His room faces east; the bamboo blinds above the shōji are currently rolled up, letting the bright morning sunshine in. "On the engawa." As summer encroaches it will no longer be possible to bask in the sun without sweating disgustingly, so he wants to enjoy the spring weather while it lasts. He will miss his chakra more than ever as the temperature rises; condensing humidity out of the air helped him keep the inside of his house cooler and a touch more chakra let him douse himself and cool off while training.

His wife kneels and gestures, inviting him to lie down; Tobirama barely hesitates, carefully sprawling on the polished boards and making sure his kimono isn't crumpled under him as he plants his face in her lap, purring as she scrapes over his scalp with his comb.

Kiso arrives a short while in and flops over Tobirama's back, limp and radiating that ineffable yet unmistakeable response to comfortable stimulation that Tobirama had previously believed to be solely the province of leopards and other felines. He purrs louder, Kiso's pure joy a delight against his chakra sense.

When Izuna finally finishes she ties up Tobirama's curls in the regular Uchiha topknot, then slides out from under him so as not to disturb Kiso, who is still floating in a happy trance. Tobirama smiles at her and waves, but keeps purring; if Kiso is anything like the young leopards he trained after signing the contract, he will lie there limply for an indeterminate while longer then take off at high speed for several hours. He's in no hurry to bring on the high-speed chase phase –especially since he's wearing kimono– so purring for longer it is. Kiso-kun's response is a tad feline; maybe he has a relative a few generations off who signed the cat contract? He saw somebody with teeth a bit like his own during the Banner Festival, which he entirely forgot to ask about in the aftermath of his cousin's escape.

Of course, the _moment_ Izuna leaves the grounds Kiso-kun _bounds_ off Tobirama, tries to jump off the engawa –which nearly gives Tobirama a _heart attack_ – bounces back off an invisible barrier –Izuna child-proofed the engawa with fuuinjutsu? Bless her a thousand times– then turns and hurtles towards the genkan, evidently familiar with the invisible impediment. Tobirama clambers off the floor and gives chase, grateful for his forethought in not putting on tabi this morning. He doesn't have any geta and zori for chasing a toddler around the garden are _not_ practical, so it's warrior sandals only and he now knows it's easier to put them on over bare feet than over tabi. With tabi there's a persistent discomfort up the back of the heel where the tabi fastenings are; he has no idea how Izuna managed to make it look so effortless.

"Need some help, Tobira-cub?" Tōnari asks, appearing as he arrives in the genkan just in time to see Kiso's giggling form push the front door open and escape, barefoot and gleeful, into the garden.

"Please make sure he doesn't fall in the pond?" Tobirama asks, stepping out of his slippers and into his sandals, pausing to move Kiso's little red house slippers so they're next to the step and facing inwards rather than strewn haphazardly across the tiled floor.

"Of course." Tōnari lopes out the front door, delight in the lines of her body as she sets off on the hunt. Tobirama abruptly remembers being small and being chased around the Senju compound by his mother's leopards, laughing as they lackadasically bounced after him and occasionally pounced, rolling him in the dirt with them and chuffing happily as he laughed.

That was a long time ago.

… It's not like he's got anything else to do and the ground is dry, so he won't get grass stains if he's careful. Leopard fur is not so avoidable; it's late spring and Tōnari will be shedding everywhere.

* * *

When Izuna returns the sun is high and Kiso-kun has run himself out, so they are sitting in the shade on the engawa at the corner of the empty room connected to Tobirama's bedroom, Kiso sprawled on the boards with a wooden boar he is marching around as he mumbles. Tobirama has taken the risk of getting his braiding stand out, and is finishing up the iris-purple obi cords he started a while back so he can then make hilt-wraps and a tying cord for Izuna's nodachi; Tōnari is also sprawled in the shade, apparently asleep but the tip of her tail is flicking in a way that says she's paying attention. Whisker-senses and listening more than watching, meant for a different kind of observation.

Azumaya-ba delivered him several skeins of cyan silk around mid-morning, but he needs to finish his current project first, if only to free up the braiding stand.

Izuna walks across the garden to stand in front of the engawa rather than simply coming in the genkan, a paper umbrella balanced on one shoulder. The shadow cast by the umbrella –blue painted with lotuses and fish– makes her tattoo look darker and paints deeper shadows under her cheekbones and in her eyesockets.

She's beautiful. Tobirama's never used the word much, because beautiful is a word for something that _moves_ you, not something that is merely aesthetic. Izuna has always been aesthetic, but now –now he sees her beauty as well. He does not think he will ever be able to _stop_ seeing it.

Duty comes first. But what _can_ he do for his clan, now?

Besides, if his father somehow showed up _today_ , Tobirama wouldn't bother with duty or respect. He'd rage and curse and try to drown the man in the fishpond with his own two hands.

For trying to _have him murdered_. Without even _talking_ to him first!

His father has known him his _entire life,_ had _raised him!_ How can he not _know_ who Tobirama _is?_ How can his father not see that Tobirama's choices _are_ to the benefit of the clan, few and far between though those choices have been of late?

Oh. He's really angry about this, isn't he. That's not really very helpful right now, when Izuna is looking at him with those so-knowing eyes.

Izuna's father killed his own little brother. Has Izuna ever feared her father might kill _her?_

"You look a thousand miles away, Treasure," his wife says quietly, idly spinning her umbrella.

Tobirama realises he's done the last few braid twists wrong, undoes a little further back than the errors, re-centres the cord and tugs lightly on the weight, making sure the work is evenly tight. Then he pushes the stand back against the shōji.

"We will go and wash hands for lunch in ten minutes, Kiso-kun."

"Hn," the toddler says, acknowledging his words without looking up from his game. Tobirama then turns back to Izuna:

"It's been a difficult few days."

She nods, expression turning sombre. "We could have tea, this afternoon," she offers. "No ceremony; just tea."

The implication being, so they have a little structure for him to talk about what's bothering him in. "Shōchū might be better." Maybe if he's drunk he'll care less about how vomiting his problems all over Izuna will give her even more power over him.

"Tea," Izuna says firmly. "We can break out the shōchū after dinner, if it comes to that."

"Very well." If he must try sober first, he will try sober first. Probably for the best; having seen how drunkenness affects his brother, Tobirama might end up sobbing or ranting and both would be mortifying to remember afterwards. Drunken rambling and reminiscing would be bad enough, if at least mostly coherent and pleasant enough company; weeping all over Izuna while drunk would rather spoil the mood.

"I could bribe you with more kimono, if that would help?" She offers after a restful pause, tone making it half a joke but eyes and chakra steady.

"Surely I have enough kimono, Lord-Wife?"

"None of them are summer gauze kimono, Treasure," Izuna replies oh-so-seriously. "Which you will need when the rains pass and the summer heat begins in earnest."

Tobirama considers this for some time, letting the quiet drag out. Yes, it's _very_ likely that Izuna already has summer kimono in the works for him. However, she is also offering to make them a bribe rather than a gift, which means they are an _exchange_ rather than something he would then have to repay her for somehow.

"My wife wishes to buy my confidences with clothing," he laments dryly.

"Is it working?" She asks lightly, spinning the paper umbrella again.

"How many kimono are my confidences worth to my Lord-Wife, then?"

"Your confidences are priceless, Treasure," Izuna says archly, "but your pride? Certainly is _not_. Three silk gauze kimono for it, concubine mine."

"My pride," Tobirama says flatly, "is worth more than _that_." If, admittedly, probably not _much_ more; he's sacrificed his pride for mission objectives before now, and some of those missions probably cost _less_ than three silk gauze kimono. If they were suitably fine silk gauze kimono. But Izuna has proven most generous in choosing his clothing before now, so he does not expect that will change.

"Four silk gauze kimono?" His wife presses, chakra intent and eyes dancing. "No? Five then? Five silk gauze kimono and two fine linen?"

Tobirama feels himself wavering; that's a _lot_.

"Five silk gauze kimono, three of them _painted_ , and two fine linen? Suitable underthings included, of course."

Tobirama sags. "My pride is evidently not that expensive," he mutters, pressing a hand over his eyes. It's still a _lot_ of money, but nowhere near as much as his purple outfit. It's also not exactly a repeatable expense; a good kimono will last a lifetime and more.

"We're shinobi, Treasure," Izuna commiserates, magnanimous in victory; "we cannot _afford_ to set the price of our pride too high."

That _is_ a comfort, somehow. "So if my confidences are priceless, how are you planning on extorting them now you have purchased my pride?"

Izuna tut-tuts at him, shaking her head mock-sadly. "Confidences are not bought or coerced, Treasure; they're exchanged. Mine for yours."

"Yes," Tobirama agrees almost without thinking about it. He wants that; wants her secrets. If his fury and grief is the price of them, so be it.

"That's settled then," Izuna says, chakra steady and faintly pleased. "Kimono for your pride, and confidences exchanged over tea and possibly shōchū later."

Tobirama abruptly realises he's neglected to specify something: "Is it too late to demand these kimono have a masculine sleeve cut?"

Izuna grins at him. "Possibly!" She sing-songs, then laughs when he theatrically covers his face with his hands. "Don't worry, Treasure: I want you to enjoy wearing them. You'll get a range."

Meaning that less than half of them will have properly straight sleeves, and the rest will range from slightly hanging to noticeably so; possibly only _one_ kimono with sleeves in the 'young wife' length range though, which would be something.

Tobirama sits upright again and folds him hands primly in his lap. "I shall trust your taste, and your mercy."

His wife's smile softens. "Thank you, Tobirama." His name in her mouth is truly _more_ intimate than the pet-name; Tobirama finds his gaze sliding down to her hands, one steadying the umbrella and the other with a bag hanging from her wrist.

"Did you have that when you left?"

"This?" She lifts the bag, forget-me-not blue silk with a resist-printed pattern of seashell outlines. "It was in my sleeve-seals, along with the umbrella."

"What's in it _now?"_ Because there _is_ something in it. The shape and heft make that obvious.

His wife smiles playfully. "Good things come to those who wait, Treasure!"

"Says the woman who bodily carried me off so she could bed me," he retorts; Izuna _certainly_ is not the sort to wait if she doesn't have to.

"Well, perhaps it would be more _accurate_ then to say that timing is everything," his wife muses, eyes rising to the translucent canopy of her umbrella, "and it's not quite time for this particular secret yet."

"Am I allowed to guess?" Tobirama asks, half-teasing.

"That depends; are you willing to pay a forfeit if you're wrong?" Izuna teases back, smirking playfully as a thread of heat ripples through her chakra.

"I've already sold my pride today; I think I had better stop before you con me out of anything else."

"Me? Con _you?_ Perish the thought! You agreed I'm praying a very fair price for your pride!"

Tobirama rolls his eyes. "Kiso-kun, it's time to wash hands before lunch."

Izuna glances up at the sky. "So it is; I should change into something more comfortable."

Kiso climbs to his feet, puts on his slippers and obediently toddles back into the house through the open shōji to put his toy away. "Hans?" he asks, turning to look back at Tobirama.

Tobirama gets to his feet as Izuna heads around towards the genkan. "Yes, let's go wash our hands, shall we?"

* * *

Lunch is rice balls, rather confusingly; not many rice balls either, just enough for a snack. Tobirama guesses that whatever his wife has made for him is _genuinely_ for him only, so not even Kiso-kun is getting to share. That is not what he was expecting, but he's not about to complain.

His rice ball has fish flakes in, but Kiso-kun's have duck and pickled greens. Tobirama's not seen any _domestic_ ducks around the Uchiha compound, and really if they were going to be anywhere they'd have been by the fishponds. Does that mean somebody hunted or trapped this duck?

Did Izuna?

After the rice balls are eaten and Kiso-kun has been treated to some arare, Midori-chan arrives to take him away for the afternoon. The toddler goes easily, wearing the old orange outfit again.

"It's his favourite," Izuna says quietly once the toddler's out of earshot, responding to Tobirama's curiosity as to why a child in her care is being allowed to wander around dressed in such old and evidently much-mended clothing. "It used to be his older brother's, and before that a kimono of their father's."

"Ah." No, Tobirama wouldn't have stopped Kiso-kun from wearing it either. Won't try to, now he knows _why_ it's the boy's favourite.

"But now we're alone," his wife continues, turning to smile a little shyly at him, "we can share lunch! Would you like to eat indoors or outside?"

Oh, what a choice. Does he want to be _seen_ eating with his wife, sharing a single pair of chopsticks, or does he want to enjoy the privacy of one of the house's many rooms?

"Indoors," he decides; he's not in the mood for exhibitionism today. The lack of Tajima-provided spying eyes to mortify with the details of their marriage is the least of it; he's unsettled enough trying not to think about how his own father reacted to that knowledge.

"Pick a room then, Treasure; I'll just finish cooking."

Tobirama picks the room adjacent to his bedroom that faces south, rolling down the blinds to reduce the brightness. Setting out the cushions, he sits down and lets his mind wander as he waits for Izuna to arrive.

His mind _instantly_ wanders to Izuna's brief conversation with Tōka when she handed over the sword. It wasn't exactly a _private_ conversation, so both of them were watching their words, but there were definitely nuances there. Especially since Tōnari also took the opportunity to speak her mind.

Tōnari referred to Tobirama as his father's second wife's firstborn. Tobirama hadn't even known his father had _had_ another wife before his mother; he'd also believed Hashirama was his full sibling. But Tōka… she hadn't even looked _surprised_.

Did _everybody_ older than them know then? And just… didn't talk about it? Hashirama certainly believes Kaa-san was his birth-mother. Had there been other children, older than Hashirama, once? What happened to them?

No, Tobirama _knows_ what must have happened to them, if they existed; it is not just his little brothers that the battlefield has eaten, but the older ones as well.

He doesn't even know their _names_ ; he wishes he could write to Baasan and ask. They deserve to be remembered by their younger brothers.

Izuna leaves the kitchen; Tobirama firmly shoves his confused grief to the back of his mind. His wife has _cooked_ for him. Cooked for him _twice_ , because he was rather out of it the first time; she did not have to do that.

As she opens the shōji the scent of soba and duck wafts into the room; Tobirama feels his mouth water as she closes the door, crosses the tatami and sets the tray down in front of him.

It _is_ duck soba, with neat slices of tamagoyaki set on a side plate. One fairly large bowl, and one set of chopsticks just like he'd asked for. Tobirama's feelings do something complicated under his stomach and he picks up the chopsticks and takes a mouthful of noodles to try and settle it.

Izuna watches him, uncharacteristically nervous.

"It's very good," he tells her, completely honestly. Her small, relieved smile is so transparently sincere that Tobirama can't look at it; he picks up a portion of noodles. "Here; my wife should eat as well."

Izuna's eyes shift from painfully happy to slyly amused as she leans forwards to accept the noodles, slurping loudly.

Tobirama helps a few wayward noodles up to her lips, then takes a piece of the duck for himself. And then feeds Izuna one. It's… interesting, actually, how it _feels_ to do this. To eat food his wife has made for him, and to feed his wife as well. It's a warm, soft feeling, but also a feeling which has darkly satisfied edges he could lean into if he wanted to.

Not right now, but another time maybe. On a day when he feels less like he might shatter if he doesn't pay strict attention to his words and actions. He was fine this morning, but as the sun rose in the sky the sense of tension and ill-ease also rose, to the point that it had been a struggle to keep it away from Kiso-kun. But he succeeded, he hopes; the toddler is not at fault, so should not bear the brunt of his mood.

When the bowl is empty of everything but the sauce, Tobirama drinks half of it before giving the bowl to Izuna, who smirks at him then very _deliberately_ turns the bowl so she drinks from the same place he did.

"Tease," Tobirama accuses lightly, feeling the curl of heated interest in his blood wash a little higher.

"That doesn't sound like a complaint, Treasure."

"It isn't one."

"Hn." Izuna sets the bowl down on the tray, then moves the plate of tamagoyaki to in front of him. "You wanted to know what I brought back with me, Treasure; I was instructed in the proper method of making these after my meetings, and then supervised until my efforts were up to a proper standard."

His wife learned to make tamagoyaki, just so as to serve him some. Tobirama picks one up and places it in his mouth; it's less sweet than he was expecting, which actually makes him like it more. "I like it," he assures her after chewing and swallowing.

"You don't have to share them, Treasure," Izuna says as he holds up the next one for her.

"I want to share my excellent meal with my wife," Tobirama counters, making an effort to keep his voice soft and coaxing. "Good food is always better shared."

Izuna smiles, Amaterasu's necklace shifting as her eyes crinkle. "Except fish," she corrects him playfully, reminding him of his words from the outing to the fishponds.

"Except fish," Tobirama agrees, smirking as she takes the light, fluffy folded omelette from his chopsticks with her teeth.

His wife flutters her eyelashes at him as she chews, then after swallowing says, "My concubine was _very_ insistent on sharing his fish soup with me last night though."

Tobirama fumbles the chopsticks.

* * *

The tea is very pleasant; Izuna bought more of the fine sencha on her mission to the Tea Country border, so what she put in the pot today is fresh and moist, with a more complex flavour that older tea retains.

Tobirama's not sure where the older tea went, but presumably it's all been drunk. Izuna wouldn't be serving new tea otherwise.

Contemplating the tea as a distraction from the fact he has promised to talk to Izuna about what is bothering him is possibly cowardice, but when he agreed to this he was evidently thinking too much about receiving her confidences, and not enough about granting her his own.

Izuna isn't calling him out on it though. She's just contemplating her own tea as they sit to one side of the unlit iori, at right angles to each-other with a bowl of arare in front of them along with the teapot.

"My father wants me dead." Keeping his voice level is a challenge. "I don't… he _knows_ me. _Why?"_

"I don't know, Treasure," Izuna says softly, reaching out and setting a comforting hand on his thigh.

"All my life – _everything_ – has been for my brothers, and for the clan. Like my father taught me was my duty." Tobirama stares into his teacup and the concentric ripples in the tea. "And somehow, the moment I'm not under his eye, he expects me to just, _abandon_ all that?"

That is what hurts most. That his father thinks so _little_ of his honour and convictions. That all his work for the betterment of the clan means nothing, _less_ than nothing.

"And, and even if he _did_ think I'd do that, murdering me is _stupid!"_ Tobirama continues, gathering momentum when Izuna doesn't contradict him or try to offer explanations. "What did he think _you_ were going to do if he succeeded? The clan _doesn't have_ anybody your equal to field other than me! Killing me makes you an immediate threat, for the insult if nothing else! He should have seen that! _Why_ didn't he see that?!"

"I couldn't tell you, Treasure."

Tobirama sips his tea, aware that he is _shaking_ with rage. "I want to stab something," he announces. "Or run to Tea Country. _Something_. I can't just _sit here_ and think about my father deciding _stupidly_ that murdering me will make the fact that you _married me_ go _away."_

"We could change and wrestle in the garden?" Izuna offers. "We can have more tea later."

"I'd like that." Rubbing Izuna's face in the dirt is very appealing right now. "Prepare to lose again."

"Promises, promises," Izuna says, eyes dancing as she sets the empty cups aside and moves the tray closer to the iori. "Meet you in the garden, Treasure."

Changing quickly into indigoes, Tobirama walks out onto the engawa, leaving his slippers on the boards as he lowers himself into the garden in bare feet and sneaks around the outside the building, staying below any potential sightlines. Unlike the Diplomatic Quarters, where the garden was designed to ensure full visibility from beyond the boundary fence, the grounds of Izuna's new home are set up to obscure sightlines, both from the neighbouring buildings and the road across the front. The cover is a combination of trees and shrubs, carefully balanced for aesthetics as much as for minimising visibility. The front door is the one exception –there is a clear line of sight to and from the front gate– but Tobirama crosses the path near the pond –the best place to do so given the stand of bamboo on the far side that shields Izuna's study– and wanders his way carefully up through the shrubbery.

He can't sense Izuna very well right now. He knows she's on the grounds _somewhere_ , but where exactly is obscured. It's not the same as suppressing your own chakra until you are barely perceptible; more of a smokescreen, seeding chakra across a wide area to create uncertainty. It's not _quite_ an even distribution, but he doubts many would pick up on that. Maybe if he takes a moment to focus he can find–

Izuna drops onto his back from out of a tree and the fight is _on_.

* * *

Sitting down again over an hour later, both of them dishevelled and sweaty with green smears and dirt on their indigoes, Tobirama feels much more settled as he accepts another cup of tea. The hottest part of the day is certainly not the most _sensible_ time to have a chakra-less taijutsu free-for-all in the garden, but the exertion and sheer _glee_ that came from tripping Izuna onto the pond –not into, alas; some other time maybe– has done a lot for his mood.

Then, as he's sipping his tea and teasing Izuna about the tiny clover flowers still clinging to her hair, a thought barges into the front of his mind fully-formed and kills all his joy.

"Treasure?" Izuna sets her tea down and gently touches his wrist, making Tobirama realise the teacup doesn't deserve to be crushed. He puts it down, half-full and the liquid sloshing up almost to overflow from his haste.

"Tobirama?"

"My father," Tobirama says precisely, voice thick, "does not _value_ me."

He doesn't know what he's expecting her to say –to contradict him maybe, or offer an alternate view– but his wife just shuffles closer and wraps an arm around his shoulders. That's… basically agreeing with him.

Izuna doesn't think his father values him _either_.

A _lifetime_ of hard work and effort, of achievements that never seemed to mean anything, of high standards met and exceeded, of mistakes written large and successes that were _expected_ of him, and none of that _matters?_ His father doesn't think what he's done, what he's _become,_ means _anything?_ Everything Tobirama's done for the clan, those _years_ spent planning and fighting and running and, and _killing_ for his father and the Senju, and the _moment_ it's _Tobirama_ who needs help his father just, cuts his losses? Barely _days_ after receiving word that his youngest remaining son still lives and is being held captive, and he sends _assassins?_

Izuna moves his teacup aside so she can sit facing him, wrapping her other arm around him as well and rubbing his back. Tobirama rests his face on her shoulder and shakes, throat locked as the fabric under his face turns wet and salty.

"You're allowed to cry, Treasure," Izuna says softly. "Let everything out, so it doesn't poison you."

Tobirama wants to say that letting your feelings swamp the people around you is both rude and a terribly Uchiha thing to do, but his lungs betray him and all that comes out is a sob.

"I'm here, Tobirama. Just me, nobody else."

He sobs again, gasps for breath and then it's all too much, the truth of his realisation, Izuna's comforting embrace and her honest concern untainted by judgement or annoyance; Tobirama wails like a disconsolate toddler, arms tight around his wife's ribcage as she rocks gently and presses kisses to the top of his head.

* * *

By the late afternoon Tobirama has recovered his poise, had a wash and changed into his wool kimono with the rapeseed soft obi, to sit around the house in. Izuna has also changed, but into the sakura pink cotton kimono with the sparrows belted by the crayfish green half-width obi with the butterflies. It softens her, as does the loose hairstyle; Tobirama watches her over the top of the waxed boards he is writing on.

She is painting. What he's not quite sure, but her brush moves swiftly over the paper, then she sets it down for a while, then takes it up again to add more details. Already half a dozen other drawings have been set aside, more sheets of empty paper waiting at her left hand.

Ink and paper almost within arm's reach; Tobirama isn't sure whether this is trust or torture. He's been trying to focus on his notes, but the scent of ink and the soft rustle of paper –mostly cheap hemp paper admittedly, but still paper– keep reminding him that he he's stuck with waxed boards and can't write letters to _anybody_.

"Lord-Wife."

"Hn?" Izuna doesn't look up.

Tobirama glares at her. "Lord-Wife, _why_ are you tormenting me with ink and paper I'm not allowed to touch?"

Izuna's head jerks up as she carefully sets the brush aside. "Treasure, I'm sorry; I didn't think." She rolls up the loose paper and slides it back into a case, then starts packing away the ink.

"You don't have to _stop_ ," Tobirama tells her, feeling less hurt now he knows it was genuine thoughtlessness not some kind of ploy. He's rather used to thoughtlessness, and unlike Anija his wife is swift to apologise and rectify her behaviour. "I just wanted to know."

"It's upsetting you."

Tobirama tries another angle. "Do you draw a lot then?" He waves a hand vaguely at the paintings spread out to dry. They've talked about art before, when he found out she'd designed his visiting kimono, but that had been more about subjects and methods than her own fondness for the exercise.

"Yes, I do; when I can at least," Izuna answers, the tension and self-recrimination in her shoulders and chakra fading slightly.

"Might I see some of your work?" He knows she designed her coat lining and had a hand in the designs painted on his more costly kimono, but other artisans were involved in all those projects so they don't really convey much of Izuna's preferred style. She holds the brush in her left hand –although she is comfortably ambidextrous with a sword– which makes Tobirama wonder if she naturally finds that hand more comfortable for working with.

It's tricky being a left-handed warrior; blade training is not designed to accommodate it and it can leave holes in a battle line-up if a commander is not very careful. Then again, Tobirama once saw an entire Uchiha _Squad_ casually change sword-hands mid-fight to throw off their opponents, so it's possible the sharingan lets them copy more than just jutsu.

Izuna pauses. "I have several boxes in my study; I found out when I was moving out that both Madara _and_ my father have been picking them up and tucking them away for years, so there's a lot more than I realised there were."

The idea of Uchiha Tajima actively _saving_ his daughter's childhood art is… Tobirama doesn't know what to do with that. It really doesn't fit with the rest of the man's image. Which, admittedly, is shaped by what Tobirama has seen on the battlefield and his expectations based on how his own father behaves, along with what little he has seen and heard of Izuna's conflicts with her parent. He'd thought they were similar, but Tajima hasn't tried to _murder_ his daughter over her marriage. However uncomfortable the relationship between himself and his children, Tajima has proven himself the better parent. Though that is possibly a rather low standard to meet. "I'd like to see what you have," he repeats.

Izuna nods, gets up and _leaves the room_. Her wet brush laid on its stand, a small pool of wet ink on the inkstone and half-finished painting laid out on the desk.

Tobirama takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tries to settle his abruptly-tense shoulders again. He doesn't have any chakra, and the fuuinjutsu he _does_ know is all entirely dependent on his _own_ chakra rather than drawing on ambient energies. Yes, there _is_ chakra in blood, but he's not sure that bleeding himself would even _work_ given how the suppression seal on him locks his chakra not just in his coils, but behind his gates.

He also doesn't even know if the seal on his back will _let_ him attempt fuuinjutsu. He doesn't know _anything_ about the kami in question, or what the Uchiha associate with him –them?– beyond 'cuts through everything,' so he can't even theorise.

He thinks about the fuuinjutsu he _does_ know –explosive tags are _easy_ – and makes to stand; his lower back warms ever so slightly.

Tobirama sits back down again; well that answers _that_. Thankfully Izuna returns promptly with a box of ink paintings in a range of styles dating back between three years and a decade, so he can push his bitter awareness of confinement to the back of his mind and focus on lighter things.

What lingers past Kiso's return and dinner however is that _all_ of the precautions taken while he was in the Diplomatic Quarters had been entirely unnecessary; Uchiha Tajima really has no concept of how _very_ securely Tobirama has been confined.

The visible cage was superfluous; Izuna knows it and her current behaviour confirms it. His prison is under his own skin.


	29. Chapter 29

Tobirama opens his eyes in the middle of the night, then wonders why he's awake at all. He can't remember any dreams this time –a great relief– and he's not too cold or too hot. He's sprawled on top on Izuna, yes, but that's not so odd when he moves a lot in his sleep. Sprawling over his wife is very much the least of his sleep-antics.

They're both decorously dressed in sleeping yukata tonight, because after the day he'd had Tobirama wasn't really in the _mood_ for more than cuddling and some kissing before sleep. Well, he hadn't been _then_. _Now_ on the other hand…

There's something about the middle of the night, the darkness and the quiet, that makes his blood run _hot_. Tobirama is firmly reminding himself that this isn't _his_ bed when Izuna stirs and wakes under him.

"Eager, Treasure?" She murmurs, a hand coming up to stroke his face.

There's no point in denying it when he's hard and pressed insistently against her thigh, so Tobirama doesn't bother. "I am _entirely_ at my wife's service."

"Hm." Her chakra stirs, heated ripples shivering through it. Only just awake and already matching him in eagerness. "I seem to remember my concubine wishing to pin my wrists and ensure I am unable to lie in my own bed ever again without thinking of him."

Tobirama kisses her, first her chin and cheek then over her mouth as he unties her sleepwear and his own. "My wife wishes to allow me to have my way with her, in her own bed?" he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl. The very _idea_ of it, of her _relinquishing_ herself to him _here_ is turning the idle burn in his blood into something _hungry_.

Izuna sighs against his lips, glimmering red peeking out at him from lidded eyes. "Please," she whispers; Tobirama knees her legs apart and pulls her yukata open, then pins her wrists above her head with his left hand and kisses her again as his right slides down her heated skin to touch between her thighs, finding welcoming wetness there.

"You'll have to beg quietly," he croons in her ear as he pushes himself into her deliciously yielding body. "No waking the toddler."

Izuna shudders under him, head tipped back but sharingan still watching him avidly. Being able to see clearly in the dark with her bloodline gives his wife the advantage of sight, but that's never been his primary sense. "What makes you think I'll be begging?" She asks coyly.

Tobirama can't help grinning; as ever, her challenge is _inspiring_. "Oh, you'll be begging," he promises her darkly, his thumb finding his wife's pearl and making her breath catch.

She grins back, teeth just-about visible even in the dimness. " _Make me._ "

Tobirama squeezes her wrists, then sets about kissing all the skin he can reach as his free hand abandons her most sensitive tissues in favour of teasing other, less obviously erotic places. "As _you_ wish then, wife," he rumbles, nipping lightly on her earlobe.

The way her hips buck and her body clutches around his is _exceedingly_ pleasant; he fully intends to drag this out for as long as he possibly can.

* * *

Getting introduced to Izuna's great-uncle over breakfast is an odd experience. Largely because Tobirama's never actually _met_ a warrior this old before. Women and vassals yes –and he suspects Baasan is actually older– but not a warrior. Yet Moreya-san is visibly over sixty with grey-streaked hair, deep wrinkles and faded scars, and his chakra is well-trained, lightly flavoured with camomile amidst the steady burn of heartwood in a sheltered hearth. He moves slowly, but with full awareness of both his own body and his surroundings. He's probably quick as a snake when he needs to be, and not at all a man to underestimate.

"I took a lung-wound the year Izuna-chan turned five," Moreya-san tells him, smiling mildly over his tea, "and decided retirement would serve the clan better."

Tobirama has no idea what a retired warrior would do. Teach? Assist in mission assignments and collating intelligence? Evidently babysitting is on that list somewhere, but that can't be _all_ he does.

"So what does a retired warrior do all day, Moreya-san?"

"You're married to my great-niece, Tobirama-kun; 'Jii-san' is a perfectly acceptable form of address," the older man says mildly, his vertically-striped kimono in shades of dark green-grey and muted yellow-browns perfectly fitting the 'harmless old man' aesthetic and making Tobirama even more cautious of taking him at face value, "and all manner of things, really. I help my niece around the garden and with her children, and when they were younger I instructed Madara-kun and Izuna-chan in clan matters as well. I am something of a student of law, which retirement has helped me to pursue further and I like to think the clan has benefitted from."

"Such false modesty from Jii-chan," Izuna teases from next to Tobirama. "Your knowledge of Fire Country civil and criminal law is _comprehensive_ , Moreya-jii, and you _know_ it is. Never mind your interest in international trading charters and the legal oddities of other nations, as well as all the associated precedents."

Tobirama can see at once how such a specialisation would be _vital_ for diversifying the clan's income, as well as for keeping warriors out of avoidable trouble when taking missions in more far-flung locations. His kin generally manage to avoid getting caught committing crimes while on missions, but Tobirama is never going to forget the time he had to extract a teenage Hashirama from jail after a town elder convinced him his disrespect for local culture _required_ he give himself up pending punishment; that had been _very_ challenging to hide from his father. Moreya-san has made good use of his time and energies despite no longer taking a weapon in hand to personally fight on the battlefield.

"It keeps me occupied, Izuna-chan," Moreya-san says calmly. "As do the hawks."

Izuna grins. "But Madara-nii's been monopolising them lately, hasn't he?"

The Elder smiles. "Of course he has; he has a _passion_ for them, after all. It's good to see him enjoying himself again."

Tobirama wonders if Hashirama knows that Madara is enamoured of falconry; is it something that ever came up during that brief illicit friendship when they were children, or were they both too busy talking about their grand hopes for the future to touch on little things like hobbies and favourite foods? It would be ironic if Tobirama were to know more about Madara as a person than his Anija, after just a scant handful of encounters and scatterings of family gossip.

Kiso, tucked against Tobirama's side, finishes his breakfast and carefully sets his bowl down on the tatami before snuggling back against Tobirama's hip.

"Comfortable there, Kiso-kun?" Moreya-san asks.

The toddler clings to Tobirama's obi. "Not goin' wif Moweya-jii-tan unti' _after_ luns," he announces.

Moreya-san chuckles, smiling warmly down at the boy. "Of course not, Kiso-kun! I am visiting to see Izuna-san, and to ask how you are liking your new home." And, presumably, to see for himself how Tobirama is treating the toddler.

"Hn." Kiso squints suspiciously at the Elder and firmly sticks his thumb in his mouth, still clinging to Tobirama's obi. Kiso's wearing red again, while Tobirama's wearing the brown damask silk kimono along with the orange stiff obi; if he were wearing a wider obi Kiso could have hung onto his obi cords, but he didn't so tiny fingers tucked into his obi it is.

Tobirama finishes his own breakfast and stacks Kiso's bowl with his. "Lord-Wife?" He'd have preferred to not have an audience for this, but it's important so he will just have to ignore the Elder watching him with mild but inscrutable eyes.

"Yes, Treasure?"

"I'd like to visit Tōma-kun, if I may?"

Izuna hums, chakra mild but considering. "You may, Treasure. You can head over after breakfast."

Kiso's chakra turns stormy; the thumb is briefly removed from his mouth. "Stay wif Keifu."

Tobirama stills completely, the toddler's words hitting him like an Akimichi war-hammer to the chest. Kiso –the boy considers _Tobirama_ –

Izuna eyes the toddler with a fond smile, not remotely shaken by Tobirama being addressed as 'stepfather' –as _parent by marriage_ – by the toddler he orphaned. _Uchiha_ , he reminds himself wildly; clearly careless of their hearts right from _birth._ "Only if you stay in a carrier while Tobirama-san is running his errand, Kiso-kun."

Kiso nods firmly, tiny fingers tucked into Tobirama's obi.

"Will you be accompanying Tobirama-kun on his errand, Izuna-chan?" Moreya-san asks mildly.

Izuna makes eye-contact with her great-uncle, chakra bland but underpinned with challenge. "Do I need to?"

Oh, the _layers_ in that question. Does her great-uncle think Tobirama is at risk just walking around the clan compound, that he might be harmed by his wife's kin? His _own_ kin, seeing as he's officially Uchiha now. Or does Moreya-san think Tobirama will try to get up to mischief?

Izuna, being blatantly provocative and not-asking her Clan Elder if he thinks the Uchiha will _also_ try to murder Tobirama, so soon after the Senju have attempted to do so.

"I'm not sure I know the way to the Diplomatic Quarters from here," Tobirama admits, because it's true and also to cover for the fact he is mostly sure he does not yet consider himself sufficiently Uchiha to _avoid_ getting utterly lost. He'd probably stumble across the building eventually, given how distinct it is from the other buildings around it and how clear the sightlines are, but it would be a serious undertaking and not a wise one to make when he will be carrying a toddler around throughout.

"I'll walk you over then, Tobirama-kun," Moreya-san says affably, setting his teacup down. Tobirama glances at Izuna, who raises an inquiring eyebrow; he can't think of a good reason to refuse the offer, unfortunately. Not when the Elder has been nothing but amiable so far, is evidently well-loved by his wife –this is a much more straightforward relationship than Izuna has with her father– and being seen wandering across the compound with an Amaterasu Elder means he is far less likely to be accosted.

There's also the very real possibility that Moreya-san wants to cross-examine him _out_ of Izuna's hearing, but right now Tobirama can't bring himself to care very much. There's already too much going on and he has no concern to spare; Kiso-kun latching onto him as a _parent_ after a scant half-handful of days is enough of a shock as it is, never mind the churning uncertainty of his feelings concerning the ultimatum issued to the Senju and his father's murder attempt.

Izuna evidently reads his indifference right off his face; she hums, nods and turns back to her great-uncle: "I entrust my treasure to your care then, Moreya-jii."

Moreya-san raises an eyebrow, which abruptly enhances the family resemblance even further. "Your treasure, but not Kiso-kun?"

"Kiso-kun is in his keifu's care, Moreya-jii," Izuna replies lightly. Kiso settles just a little more, slumping further into Tobirama's waist and fingers loosening their grip on his obi.

"And in yours, Izuna-chan."

"Of course; his keifu, who cares for him, is mine to care for." Izuna's sweet smile is very much at odds with the wicked amusement in her chakra. That his wife is the kind of person to tease her elders is not as much of a surprise as it could be; Tobirama knew already that she was absolutely shameless, this is merely further proof.

Moreya-san just sighs fondly though, so evidently this is not a surprise to him either. "Whenever you're ready then, Tobirama-kun."

Tobirama nods, then looks down at Kiso. "Kiso-kun, we're going to use the toilet and wash our hands in a minute or so."

"Hn."

Accepting the acknowledgement, Tobirama turns to Izuna. "Lord-Wife, do you have a child-carrier?" She likely does, seeing as she has already threatened Kiso with one, but he's going to need a bit of help putting it on as it's been a while since he's used one. Well over a decade, in fact.

He was much smaller then, and oh-so-proud of himself for helping Haha look after the baby.

"I'll go and fetch it while you and Kiso-kun are washing, Treasure."

"Thank you."

She leans in to kiss him. "My treasure is most welcome."

* * *

The carrier is padded red silk, beautifully embroidered across the back with a phoenix curved around a golden sunburst, surrounded by fireballs and clouds. It's a very different shape to what Tobirama was expecting, a square of padded fabric with two long strips stitched to it top and bottom, making four ties. Izuna ties lower ties together around his waist, then the upper ties to the trailing ends of the matching lower ones on each side, Kiso-kun comfortably sat in the padded square behind his back. It's not uncomfortable; just not quite what anticipated. Yes, Midori-chan had been wearing one of these for Kinu-chan when they were babysitting, but Tobirama had thought that was a concession to her small size, not a standard item. Senju child-carriers are much less elaborate, and his mother's Hatake one was bag-shaped and lined; intended for much colder climes.

Being able to simply walk out of the garden gate is _also_ not what he was expecting; he had thought he would need to be led out, like the seals on the Diplomatic Quarters. But no; evidently he is now free to leave if he so chooses, whenever he so chooses.

Tobirama suspects there is still a hard boundary out there somewhere; possibly the border of the clan compound. His leash has been lengthened, not removed; his back is still painted with fuuinjutsu and Yatagarasu is watching.

Ironically, the knowledge that he _can_ wander the compound if he is so inclined makes him all the more eager to stay within the fortified boundary of the grounds of Izuna's new house, where others _can't_ approach him without her express permission.

"This way then, Tobirama-kun," Moreya-san says warmly, waving along the road. Tobirama falls in step beside him, taking care to be slightly behind so as not to lose sight of the Elder.

There are a _lot_ of other Uchiha out and about in this part of the compound, children playing in the road as well as adults chatting over fences and walking this way and that. Tobirama feels acutely visible, and is grateful for the armour provided by his brown damask kimono, orange obi and the red dōnuki layer peeking out at his collar. Izuna also gave him a box of rice balls and mochi, nominally as a snack for himself and Kiso-kun but implicitly to be shared with Tōma as well; the knotted furoshiki hangs from Tobirama's left hand, both a grace and a terrible weight.

It's been two full days since Tōma was locked up, and Tobirama _knows_ the thirteen-year-old is shackled to the wall of the stone room, probably naked so as to make keeping him clean easier. Two full days, and only now on the third morning is he visiting his young kinsman. Cowardice perhaps –Tobirama knows he does not _want_ to see how his cousin is being kept, does not want to _know_ what he has avoided by Izuna's grace alone– but there is no going back in time and facing this sooner. He has a duty to his only accessible kin, especially seeing as it is unlikely anybody will have bothered to tell Tōma what is going on outside his prison cell.

Bad enough to be imprisoned; but to not even know what is going on? That at least Tobirama can rectify, and assure his cousin that his mother is alive and well: he saw Ajisai-ba in Izuna's illusion, deeply unhappy over the loss of her only son but otherwise in good health.

Moreya-san does not try to engage him in conversation; Tobirama is grateful.

There is a warrior on guard by the gate on the Diplomatic Quarters; a guard who is nervous, slightly bored and doing their best to keep their boredom in check. Tobirama wonders if this is Tajima's punishment for whoever was on duty the night the Senju snuck into the compound. It does not seem quite creative enough compared to having to write out the entire legal code or being banned from favourite foods for half a year.

"Moreya-sama!"

"Good morning Ryūto-kun," the Elder says amiably. "How's your aunt doing with the new medicine?"

The guard's eyes dart briefly to Tobirama, but he answers readily enough. "Very well, thank you Moreya-sama. Are you here to interrogate the prisoner?"

That implies Moreya-san _is_ in a position within the clan hierarchy that _permits_ him to interrogate prisoners, but the Elder is shaking his head. "Oh, none of that will be needed at all, Ryūto-kun; Izuna-sama's report was _exceptionally_ thorough. Tobirama-kun merely wishes to visit his young kinsman."

The guard's eyes dart over Tobirama again, this time dropping to Kiso strapped to his back and the bag hanging from his hand. However he does _not_ ask any of the obvious questions. What he says _instead_ is:

"If Tobirama-sama wishes to speak to Naonaka-sempai, who has taken charge of Senju-kun's care, he has the evening shift."

Tobirama nods. "Thank you, I may do so. Where might I find Naonaka-san when he is not on shift?"

Ryūto-san shrugs one shoulder and pulls a vague face; Tobirama is still not used to how _expressive_ Uchiha can be off the battlefield. "Ask at the Outguard Hall; somebody can point you in the right direction."

Implying that Uchiha Naonaka-san is a man with many duties, or at least has many places he frequents and friends he visits. Tobirama hesitates at the gate –will he be able to leave again?– then steels himself to step through it; if he cannot, Ryūto can either give him a hand out or send word to Izuna to rescue him. He will _not_ be caged for very long. He may have recently learned that the Diplomatic Quarters were never what _truly_ imprisoned him, but he spent two months believing them such and habits are not so easily quashed.

It does not help that the right-hand side of the building now lacks shōji, letting him see clearly inside; the tatami have also been removed, and the air smells rather strongly of ammonia. Evidently the other half of the punishment for these warriors is cleaning and replacing what was damaged by their negligence; that _is_ rather more Tajima's style.

Tobirama knows as soon as he enters the garden of the Diplomatic Quarters that he will have no trouble at all leaving again; he can still sense Ryūto and Moreya-san beyond the fence, camphor and camomile respectively with rather more feathers to Ryūto's chakra-feel than to Moreya-san's. It's reassuring to know he can leave whenever he likes.

He hesitates again at the front door, but stepping into the genkan does not cut him off from the two Uchiha chatting by the garden gate; his sensing range remains unhindered, paltry ten metres though it is reduced to. But being indoors also reveals Tōma, abruptly perceptible with faintly watery chakra cloudy with fear, misery and guilt.

Stepping out of his sandals, Tobirama strides down the hall to the shōji of the stone room in bare feet, noting that the heating fuuinjutsu hasn't been removed; his cousin at least won't be cold.

Opening the shōji is exactly as damaging to his mental equilibrium as he thought it might be: Tōma is wearing a tattered indigo shirt and nothing else, an old blanket folded behind his back as a concession to comfort and both wrists shackled to the wall behind him at shoulder height. Keeping the prisoner naked from the waist down when he is restrained in a way that prevents him from using the washroom is certainly _practical_ –it makes cleaning easier while also reducing the likelihood of infection and disease– but it is also humiliating, uncomfortable and profoundly vulnerable.

Izuna deliberately did _not_ reduce Tobirama to this. He can't help but be uneasily grateful for it.

Tōma's head jerks up as the door panels open and he stares at Tobirama as he steps into the room, face and bound chakra both radiating disbelief and confusion. Tobirama firmly suppresses his own self-consciousness; yes, he's wearing a kimono, has long hair tied up in a topknot and a toddler strapped to his back. Yes, he looks completely different to how Tōma is used to seeing him. But none of that really matters. They are still kin.

He closes the shōji, not that it makes a difference when the nearest Uchiha is standing outside the front gate, too far away to overhear anything. "Hello, cousin," he says calmly. "It's good to see you."

Tōma bursts into tears.

* * *

His cousin's breakdown sets off Kiso, so then Tobirama has to move the child carrier around so the toddler can cling to his _front_ rather than his back, as well as kneel down to hug Tōma as best he can; the restraints make it difficult. Tucking Tōma's legs under him sideways allows for the best angle, and the soft-faced thirteen-year-old leans desperately into his embrace, sobbing heartbrokenly into his shoulder as Kiso clings to his neck and wails just as loudly.

Tobirama breathes steadily, rubs both boys' backs and lets the emotions slough off him, nuzzling hair and murmuring comfortingly about how he's here, he's here, he's got them. He does not promise that everything will be alright; that is far beyond his means. He also doesn't tell them to stop crying, because that never helps.

Their distress _is_ upsetting, but asking them to stop purely because of that is a terribly selfish thing to do. Kiso is crying _because_ Tōma is crying, too young to properly differentiate between internal and external distress, and Tōma has had a frightening and isolating few days, so has _earned_ his tears. Tobirama won't deny him them; he has shed his fair share of tears here as well.

Of course, being thirteen, it doesn't take Tōma very long to remember he's a man now and should comport himself with proper warrior decorum; he can't push Tobirama away, what with being shackled to the wall, but he does try to pull back and sniff loudly so his nose stops running. Tobirama produces a handkerchief –which he should have done sooner; this kimono will have to go straight to be laundered– and wipes Tōma's nose, humming a tune for Kiso who is now also quieting.

"Doesn't that feel better, hm?" He murmurs, nominally to the toddler. "There there, little one, I've got you." Tōma can pretend the words aren't also for him if he likes.

Kiso's high-pitched wails soften to hiccupping whimpers; Tobirama wishes for chakra to settle the hiccups, but that's futile so he rocks and hums and wipes away tears and snot as Tōma breathes deeply, shaking and sniffing still as he tries to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry," Tōma manages, voice hitching halfway through his apology, "I shouldn't have said yes to Ji-san, this is _horrible_ –I'd do _anything_ to get out– I'm _sorry_ Tobirama-sama–" he sobs, head hanging in shame.

"Shh," Tobirama says firmly, wiping his cousin's eyes and nose again. "I didn't _expect_ you to know, Tōma-kun. You're young yet. Your uncles however _did_ know, as did my father; this is on their heads, not yours." And those uncles have paid for it in blood.

"But, but I still _blamed_ you," Tōma whispered, radiating misery. "I shouldn't have, I didn't _realise_ it was like this. I've only been here two days! And _still_ –"

"Hush," Tobirama says again, putting a bit more authority in it this time; his cousin very gratifyingly shuts up. "Our clan doesn't train people for this, Tōma-kun. We're primarily battlefield specialists, not interrogation and infiltration specialists. Of _course_ you didn't know what to expect; assassins do not _plan_ for what to do upon getting caught." And Tōma is only thirteen, barely started on that specialisation. If he even knew what his uncle's specialisation _was_ before now; the clan does not _advertise_ who its assassins are.

"How did you get out?"

"I was never actually shackled to the wall," Tobirama admits. "Izuna-san wanted me to _agree_ to conceive children with her, so she had the Deathblow break Tōka-san's legs and used her as leverage: I agreed, or she slit both our throats. I couldn't do that to Tōka-san, and I knew that if I _did_ then Izuna-san would be back on the battlefield the next day, carving her way through our clan unimpeded."

"Oh." Tōma bites his lip. "So you agreed to keep her off the field?"

"Yes." Tōma doesn't need to know about the other motives that have crept up on him since then. There is too much to articulate in so little time, and warrior or not his cousin is still a child, with a child's understanding of the world and interpersonal relationships. "She wants _my_ children because she knows Anija's a soft-hearted fool and will call a ceasefire before risking harm to his nieces and nephews." Not that Anija is currently in charge; how long has Izuna been setting up his father's death?

His little cousin frowns, sniffing again. "That makes sense," he concedes. "But Tōka-sama escaped, so she's not leverage anymore."

Tobirama sighs. "Izuna put fuuinjutsu on my back before she even woke me up after making off with me," he admits heavily. "I don't have any chakra, I can't even _think_ about sabotage without it warning me to stop and I can only go where Izuna lets me go."

Tōma's eyes widen. "You're still a prisoner?"

"Very much so."

"But, but Ji-san said you _married_ Izuna!"

"I did," Tobirama says mildly; "Izuna wants her children to be _legitimate_ after all. But that doesn't mean I'm her _husband._ "

Tōma blinks in confusion. "But you're married!"

"Yes." It seems he will be the person to explain what a concubine is to his little cousin; how awkward. "I'm her concubine, not her husband; our children are legitimate and her heirs, and I am legally Uchiha with the protections that implies, but otherwise I can't expect any of the things husbands normally expect from their wives. Or even the things that wives expect from their husbands, even though I still owe all those things to _her_. As her concubine, she is perfectly within her rights to keep me locked within the Uchiha compound for the rest of my life." And no civilian would think it was at all out of the ordinary.

Tōma frowns. "So you're married to her, but she's not really married to _you_?"

"That is an accurate summary, yes." Leaving off that he only married her at all to save Tōka's life and there was nothing in the 'wedding' that could be remotely called a _ceremony_.

"That's not _fair_."

"No, it isn't," Tobirama agrees calmly, "but Tōka's still alive, I am still alive and Izuna's pregnant, so is unlikely to be back on the battlefield any time soon." Small victories, but significant ones. "And I'm being allowed to visit you."

Tōma sags. "That's, really nice of Izuna-san," he mumbles, then side-eyes Kiso. "Why do you have a baby, Tobirama-sama?"

Another explanation he'd rather not give. "Kiso-kun is Izuna-san's cousin, and an orphan," he says, picking his truths with care, "and Izuna-san is his guardian, being his closest living relative. I agreed to act as a father to him." How his little cousin interprets that is not something Tobirama can influence overly much, but it is always better not to lie. If you lie you have to remember what exactly you said to whom and consider who _they_ might tell.

Kiso flops limply against him in response to this admission; Tobirama boosts him up slightly, so the toddler's head is resting on his shoulder. Kiso's probably exhausted after all that crying, so a nap will do him good.

Tōma swallows loudly. "He was with you, when," the teenagers hesitates.

"He was." Tobirama isn't going to make _that_ part more comfortable for the boy. "He slept through it though, thankfully."

"That's good," Tōma mumbles, ducking his head.

"You should drink something," Tobirama decides, firmly changing the subject. "Those tears will have dehydrated you."

Tōma squirms miserably. "Don't _want_ to drink," he mutters.

Tobirama raises an eyebrow. Tōma resists for a few seconds, then blurts out, "I can't use the toilet like this!"

"There's a chamber pot in the fusuma room," Tobirama says flatly. "I'll fetch it, but even if there _wasn't_ , Tōma, you _need_ to drink enough. Not doing so is more likely to kill you than the Uchiha are." Dehydration kills, and it kills the water-natured much more quickly than those of other elemental leanings. There are ways around that, of course, but they all require access to chakra that neither of them _has_ right now.

The teenager grunts sulkily.

" _Tōma_."

" _Yes_ , Tobirama-sama, I'll drink more!"

Tobirama ruffles his hair. "Good boy." He then gets to his feet and steadies Kiso –who is already fast asleep and snoring adorably– so Tōma can pretend he's not blushing at the praise. "I'll fetch the chamber pot now, then sort out a drink for you." There are cups in the furoshiki bag, even though he will have to get water from the washroom.

Once Tōma's used the chamber pot and drunk something, Tobirama will get the food out. Ryūto outside made no mention of anybody bringing Tōma lunch, so it's likely the Uchiha have only been bothering with morning and evening meals; sufficient for a prisoner in the short term, but very uncomfortable for a growing boy. The onigiri and mochi will no doubt be devoured eagerly.

Once outside the Stone Room Tobirama lets himself grimace and shudder, pressing a fresh handkerchief to his eyes. His control is good enough to ensure Tōma only sees the confident façade, but inside he is _screaming_ at what he has avoided only by virtue of Izuna's kindness. If that had been _him_ –no Tōka, no _clothing_ , no _nothing_ – then he would have broken utterly within a month. _Nobody_ can withstand _that_ , least of all when there's a reasonable and practical jailor offering dramatic improvements for relatively small concessions. Such as, for instance, a willingness to allow sexual contact.

Senju Kabema breaking is not so surprising at all, if misbehaviour resulted in _that_. But Izuna… she _mentioned_ it yes, but she never _threatened_ him with it.

Izuna _never_ intended to do that to him. Tobirama breathes, willing his heart to settle. He took the smart option, he was cautious, and he denied Tajima the leverage to pressure Izuna into _doing_ that, however briefly. He made the _right choices_.

He made the _best possible_ choices. It still doesn't make settling himself as he retrieves the chamber pot _easy_ , but it helps. He can walk out of this building whenever he pleases and out of the garden gate as well. He can accost any Uchiha he meets and ask to be guided back to Izuna's house. He has comfortable clothing, regular and generous meals, assurance of physical and mental security and even leverage to influence the wider Uchiha clan in the Senju's favour, should it come to a peace treaty.

Yet seeing Tōma so helpless _still_ makes him feel liked he's failed his clan. It's a terrible feeling, even though it is his father who is to blame for his cousin being here at all.

* * *

Tōma chokes on tears again when Tobirama gets up to leave; he ends up staying a half-hour longer to hug his unfortunate kinsman and promise to talk to Izuna about arranging a slightly more comfortable imprisonment. Tōma accepts this with desperate hope raw and aching in his face and chakra, and Tobirama prays his wife will indulge him. Tōma won't be locked in for very much longer –four or five days at most, maybe six if the Uchiha take matters to the daimyo– so if Tobirama can make the time he has left comfortable, he will.

Perhaps it is cowardly of him, but he didn't tell the teenager about the sentence hanging over him; over the entire clan. He couldn't bear it; speaking it aloud would make it more real and terrifying than it is already. It would also make his cousin frightened and miserable, which would be cruel. He was able at least to assure Tōma that his mother is well and that the feud has not actually resumed yet.

He rather _wants_ to take Izuna up on that offer of hers to watch over him while he gets drunk, now. His head _aches_ from all the thoughts and fears rattling around in it and anything that might silence them would be very much welcome.

Stepping out of the front door of the Diplomatic Quarters helps more than he's comfortable admitting. Walking out of the front _gate_ , utterly impeded, fills him with both unspeakable relief and terrible shame. He turns to Ryūto to ask about an escort when Tōnari bounds into his sensing range, then into sight as well.

"Tobira-cub!"

"Tōnari-ba." He hasn't seen or sensed her since noon yesterday; he'd honestly thought she'd reverse-summoned herself back to the Leopards' homeland in the Highlands of Eternal Snow. "I hadn't realised you were still here."

"I was exploring your new home," Tōnari says, cheerful and utterly shameless as she rubs her head against his hip. "It's very lovely, Tobira-cub; you should spend more time out of doors, get to know your new kin."

"I will take that under advisement." Ryūto doesn't seem particularly alarmed by the snow leopard summons wandering around the compound at will though, so Tobirama resolves not to worry about it. Evidently Tōnari _has_ come to some kind of agreement with the Uchiha's cat summons; if the compound is indeed 'Cat Territory,' then his summons will have to follow certain rules rather than being free to act as they plerase.

"Well, let's go back to your new home so I can tell your wife about Shizuki visiting later."

Shizuki? One of his three younger leopard summons, the ones he had to win over personally rather than had stayed with him from his mother's contract as Tōnari and her sister Kyōnari had? " _How_ will Shizuki be visiting, Tōnari-ba?"

The leopard chuffs smugly. "I've put a Claim on Kiso-kit, Tobira-cub. He's kin enough to you for it to stick and he's got the feel of a good summoner, which is all that matters. We'll visit regularly to help care for him and make sure he gets the right sort of education, which I'm sure your mate won't mind at all."

No, Izuna won't mind. Why _would_ she mind when this ties the Leopard Contract to the Uchiha Clan, even just for a generation? Tobirama reaches down and sinks his fingers into the soft fur of Tōnari's ruff. "Thank you, Tōnari-ba."

Even if he can never summon again, the leopards have _ensured_ they will not be cut off from him. It will be a decade at _least_ before Kiso's reserves are mature enough for him to summon safely, a decade or more in which his five leopards can come and go at will to visit their future summoner. And, as Tobirama is Kiso's step-parent, to visit _him_ as well. The leopards may not be _openly_ the scheming sort, but they do know how to bend the rules to their benefit.

"Like we _wouldn't_ put a claim on your kits if we could, Tobira-cub," Tōnari-ba says slyly. "But the Cats have dibs on your mate's firstborn, so try and ensure there's another cub in a year or two for us to lay a Claim on, hm?"

Izuna's pregnancy is not even _showing_ yet and Tōnari wants to talk about the _next_ one? "That's entirely up to my wife, Tōnari."

"Not _entirely_ ," the leopard says wickedly, "but very well then; I'll ask her too."

"Tōnari!"

* * *

Kiso-kun, having slept half the morning away, is not _remotely_ interested in taking a nap after lunch, so Tobirama hands him over to Moreya-san early. That also enables him to make his appeal to Izuna concerning Tōma without worrying about interruptions.

Izuna listens attentively as he presents his case over tea, listing every advantage he can think of for the Uchiha Clan and all the ways that granting Tōma these small mercies is a negligible risk, her chakra steady and open. When he finally runs out of words she nods and speaks:

"You wish for the clan to take better care of him, because you feel he is worthy of care."

"Yes."

Izuna nods again, eyes meeting his. "That's reason enough, Treasure. I can send for Naonaka-san now, if you wish?"

Tobirama feels vaguely piqued. "You let me talk for _half an hour_ and that's _all_ it would have taken?"

His wife half-smiles at him, chakra wry. "Treasure, you made that argument to me like I would have put it to my father. I'm trying not to _be_ him, but I recognise that I have to step into that mindset in order to _convince_ him." Her smile turns soft. "Thank you for reminding me I need to consciously step _out_ of it afterwards."

"You would _really_ have accepted 'he should be better cared for than this' as reason enough?" Tobirama repeats suspiciously.

Izuna sighs. "I spared him because he _is_ a child, Treasure. Thank you for reminding me that I owe him a duty of care by having spared him, and what is sufficient for the wellbeing of an adult in the short term is in _no_ way sufficient for a child." Her chakra aches softly with old sorrows, well-worn but still tender. "I want my clansmen to speak up when I make mistakes like this, but evidently that will take a little more time."

So Izuna did not _intend_ for Tōma to be so neglected and distressed, but her kinsmen were too cautious of her to double-check despite any misgivings they may have had. Tobirama suspects this has more to do with Tajima's well-known execution of his own brother rather than being specific or personal to Izuna, but commenting on that would be insensitive. From what he has seen Izuna _does_ take after her father in a range of very obvious ways, so for her kinsman to be wary of eliciting a similarly terrifying response from her is not _unreasonable._ If, evidently, somewhat upsetting for her.

"So, Naonaka-san?" she asks.

"Sooner would set my mind at ease," Tobirama agrees, picking up his teacup.

"Then I will have him come over at once, so that arrangements can be made."

* * *

Uchiha Naonaka is a warrior of indeterminate age whose chakra is very strongly fire and feathers with only the faintest chaser of cedar, with short untidy hair and a symmetrical tattoo on his chin. He is very contained in his chakra –possibly a sensor? Sensors, being more aware of chakra than most, are often more diligent about controlling their presence– but his relief at being summoned to discuss ways that Tōma can be made more comfortable is nonetheless palpable. He mentions having children of a similar age, leading Tobirama to tentatively place him in his late thirties.

It's a fairly short meeting; Naonaka has clearly already been thinking about ways Tōma's captivity could be made less desolate, so when Izuna expresses her desire that he do so he quickly lines up a set of improvements and associated precautions. Tōma will be shackled by the ankle to the stone foundation under the fusuma room, but the chain is long enough that he can sit just inside the tatami room and he'll be able to feed himself, use the chamber pot and dress himself. He'll also get trips to the washroom three times a day along with more substantial meals, and Naonaka has agreed to vet appropriate people to sit on the engawa and talk to him, or not.

Tobirama suspects it won't take Tōma long to start talking. He's been completely starved of human company for two entire days and he's a very normal young warrior who divides his time between his family and training with his peers; it's fairly evident he's already been talking to Naonaka.

But no matter how much of a _relief_ it is to watch Naonaka hurry out of the Amaterasu Residence –as he now knows Izuna's house is called– with a spring in his step and pleased determination in his chakra, Tobirama is still exhausted. He doesn't like that this was necessary in the first place, but he can't look away from the fact that Izuna _conceded_. She was kind when she didn't need to be. She _apologised_ for overlooking Tōma's plight, even though she had delegated it to others who had failed to notify her _either_ of what exactly they were doing _or_ that they were uncomfortable with the bare minimum that is evidently some kind of in-clan legal standard.

And all this against the backdrop of the ultimatum issued to the Senju, which will come due in four days' time and potentially lead to Tōma being the first of his clan to die. All this, just for _four days_ of comfort and regular meals.

It's worth it. But Tobirama _still_ wants to get drunker than he ever has in his life. He's been slightly tipsy before, so he knows it makes him chatty, but he _also_ knows he stops thinking about things. He's already promised to exchange confidences with Izuna; doing so while drunk won't be any different to doing it sober. He won't lose anything more than he is already, and he'll be able to _not_ think about the impending doom hanging over the Senju for a few hours.

"Izuna?"

His wife looks up at him from her reading; usual correspondence, it looks like, although Tobirama isn't sure who exactly would be writing to Uchiha Izuna from outside the clan. "Hn?"

"I'd like to get drunk, please."

His wonderful wife just nods. "This evening maybe, after Kiso-kun's in bed? Your new futon's due later this afternoon, so you can sleep in your own bed afterwards."

That's very thoughtful of her, reinforcing his boundaries like that. "This evening then."

"Do you mind if I add a few other people to our evening in?" Izuna asks. "It's not much fun getting drunk alone, and I can't exactly join you."

"Who were you thinking of asking?"

"Madara-nii and Hikaku-kun. I know Madara-nii's never got drunk before, so that could be fun." Izuna smiles, light and mischievous. "We can play a game, so as to liven the evening up a little; we've all got good dirt on each-other to share, you'll love it."

That… actually that sounds like it could be very entertaining. "Very well then."

His wife nods. "This evening it is then; anything in particular you'd like to do before then?"

Tobirama thinks about it. "Who's writing to you, wife?"

Izuna smiles. "Oh, all _kinds_ of people," she says lightly. "I did tell you that most of my pleasure district visits are about intelligence, didn't I?"

"You did."

"Well, some of those ladies write. Not _openly_ to Uchiha Izuna, of course, but to a pseudonym; I have to maintain those contacts, as well as exchange letters in my own name with various nobles I've met through either business or pleasure who make the effort to keep in contact. Maintaining a social network's very important for business, as well as for keeping track of political trends and staying ahead of natural disasters, famines and so on."

The kind of things his aunts do, then. Tobirama really doubts Izuna is the Uchiha clan's _only_ correspondent; there's probably a good number of them all working together. "So, is there anything interesting going on in the wider world?"

Izuna humours him with a fond smile. "Well it's been a good spring in Fire and rice planting is going ahead on schedule," she begins, "but it's been wetter than usual in Earth so the rivers are high in Rain Country and through the Riverlands. In Wind the Ichibi is currently wandering around the south-western corner of the desert, so trade in eastern and northern areas has been good. The rains in Earth have made mining in certain areas more risky, so several mines have suspended operations and the prices of those materials have risen accordingly."

Tobirama pours out a fresh round of tea as his wife talks, enjoying the flow of information and busily trying to connect all these odds and ends to what he has learned of politics and economics since coming into her care. He's always enjoyed a challenge, and realising how all these details interconnect is still _fascinating_.


	30. Chapter 30

Tōka is practicing her chakra control –without Tobirama around she's going to have to get much better at medical jutsu– when the screaming starts. Actual genuine panicked screaming, terror clear in tone and pitch; grabbing her naginata, Tōka runs towards the compound's main gate–

–and takes a sharp, panicked breath of her own as she turns a corner to see an Uchiha in bone-marked armour walking leisurely across the main gathering area, Yagura's razor-edged chain-whip going through them like smoke.

"Vengeful Ghost!" Someone shouts; Uchiha Taka however turns towards Tōka and grins, teeth a flash of white that match the highly realistic skeleton design decorating her close-fitting and fully covering suit of armour plates.

"Fatal Flower," The Uchiha says, her red and black eyes twisted with something that is _not_ the usual trio of tomoe and her voice pitched to carry through the frightened screaming. "I came ahead to inform the Senju clan of a formal Uchiha delegation that will be at the gates in," she glances at the sky, "about a quarter of an hour."

"To what do we owe the honour of your warning, Uchiha Taka-sama?" Tōka asks, wary and mindful of her manners.

Taka smirks unpleasantly. "Why, Uchiha Izuna-sama comes to make an official complaint against your clan head, for the unprovoked and dishonourable assault upon her concubine, Uchiha Tobirama-san."

Tobirama. Her _honoured uncle_ just tried to–? Is her cousin _hurt?_

Taka is not keeping her voice down, and her intangibility combined with her failure to attack anybody in particular means they have a wary audience. "Assault?" Tōka asks, also pitching her voice to carry. "I trust Uchiha Izuna-sama's honoured spouse was not severely harmed?"

The Uchiha rolls her shoulders. "Five assassins at the dead of night, all to murder one man whose chakra is bound firmly beyond his reach," she says conversationally, "the daimyo will be _most_ disappointed to hear that the Senju have broken faith so soon after his letter of congratulation to their clan head for his second son's most _advantageous_ match."

Izuna's marriage gambit has _teeth_ and the Senju will soon be feeling them. She did _say_ all of this to her _honoured_ uncle when he was debriefing her; he evidently believed her views were unsubstantiated, so disregarded them. "The front gates in a quarter of an hour you said, Uchiha-sama?"

Taka hums, walking casually forwards until she is within arm's reach. "Be there, Senju Tōka," the harsh-faced woman says mildly. "Your presence is required." Then she reaches out and pokes Tōka in the forehead before turning and vanishing in a blur of chakra.

Tōka sways, abruptly realising that the Vengeful Ghost had been tracking _her_ while both armed and fully armoured, when all she herself is wearing is under-armour.

"Tōka-san?" Yagura hurries up to her, bladed whip neatly looped up at his hip again.

"I'm _fine_ ," Tōka insists, leaning on her naginata and breathing through her sudden panic. She misses her armour so _much!_ "But as many ranking people as possible _need_ to have a view of the front gate; if Izuna's visiting Madara will be too." Just the two of them plus Taka could cut a bloody swathe through the compound, and Tōka has no illusions that it _will_ be just the three of them. No, an 'official complaint' is going to involve a quorum of respected Uchiha and an honour guard, just to make it all exceedingly public and embarrassing for her uncle. Well, maybe this will let her find out exactly how many lineages the Uchiha have beyond Amaterasu, Yatagarasu and Inari.

"You believe her?" Yagura seems doubtful.

"I spent two months watching Izuna work," Tōka says grimly; "she won't pick up a sword when words will do the job, and by playing the injured party to the daimyo –when the Uchiha are a _noble_ clan– she can get us into some very _unpleasant_ trouble; _worse_ than she could do with a sword, even. That she's coming here at _all_ is unnecessary, unless there's another layer to the scheme."

Which there _is,_ and not even a subtle one: the clan still has the option of letting her uncle take the blame –and the fall– for this, which _won't_ last beyond Izuna taking the matter to the daimyo. Tōka grinds her teeth as she turns and runs back to her parents' house for something vaguely smart to wear; even knowing his father tried to _assassinate_ his little brother, Hashi _won't_ step up. It's going to be up to her, even though she's got no armour, no sword and knows she's not good enough to beat her uncle yet. In two, maybe three years? Yes, she will be _then_ , but that's not soon enough. She's _stronger_ than him now, in chakra at least, but she is certainly _not_ more experienced _or_ more cunning and the lack of equipment is a critical handicap.

Maybe her mother can advise her. First though, throw on something vaguely formal and grab her parents.

Oh yes, and send people to fetch Tou-san, Ōka-ba, Obaasan and Hashirama.

* * *

Hashirama runs around the corner of the clan hall and starts shouldering through the gathered crowd, who part for him. It's not a _crush_ , but there're a _lot_ of people here. Mostly warriors; it's suddenly very obvious how many people are sitting around or training because they've got nothing else to do. If they got peace, there'd be more of this; being bored is awful, so there need to be things for people to do besides missions.

Well, the clan _could_ take on more missions, but father _won't_ because that would mean there being fewer people on hand in case of an Uchiha assault. If they had peace they could take more missions, then? But then again, sometimes there _aren't_ more missions… he can't ask Tobi, so he'll have to talk to Mito about it.

There's a whistling sound; Hashirama glances up, then spins around with his hand on his sword as there's a loud thud behind him. Taking a quick breath he gags, pressing his sleeve to his mouth and nose; that's a dead body. Not a particularly _fresh_ dead body either; why are the Uchiha–

There's another whistle and a wide circle clears; _this_ body bounces into two separate pieces on impact.

The nearest body is Chirinma-ji, Hashirama realises belatedly; Chirinma-ji who's been at _both_ of his father's most recent report-meetings on what Tobirama's doing.

Another whistle; this body hits a roof, bounces and slides down to land in a garden, leaving a horrible red-brown smear in its wake and highlighting a burnt hole through the middle of the torso, large enough for two clenched fists to pass through cleanly.

The fourth body _splatters_ , head and legs detaching and armour thoroughly caved in, crush-marks like giant fingers denting the steel. Hashirama feels the blood drain from his face; that's _Kyōzoma-nii_ , one of his cousins!

Kyōzoma-nii, who is an assassin. Chirinma-ji, who's a stealth specialist. Two others –and that armour over there on the half-body looks like it belongs to Misu, the clan's senior assassin– all very clearly killed by Uchiha, who are 'returning' the bodies.

Did his father send _assassins_ after Izuna?!

He turns to Shurō, who is now kneeling beside Chirinma-ji with a cloth wrapped roughly over the lower half of his face. "Set a guard to keep the children away and have medics fetched; the bodies can go to the morgue for now." There will be funerals later, but right now he needs to go find out what happened. No matter how much he wants to go talk to wives and siblings and children of the dead, to offer comfort and reassurance, he _must_ go find out why the Uchiha announced this visit and then threw corpses at them. To disrespect the dead so is unthinkable, but there must be a _reason_. Or even an excuse; _something_ to make sense of this horror.

The gates are open. _Why_ are the gates –of course; because they don't want the Uchiha to break them. Realistically, there's no way they can keep Izuna _out_ , but the gates protect them against boars and other wildlife more than against shinobi. There are fewer people standing around here now that there is the distraction of dead bodies to catch their attention, but it's enough to block Hashirama's view of the outside until he pushes through to the front row.

There are Uchiha standing outside the gates, but Hashirama recognises them mostly from Madara's unruly shock of hair; not _one_ of them is wearing a coat. Instead they're dressed in odd-looking fitted armour in a range of colours and vibrant patterns, including the rather disconcerting skeleton design Shinso-kun told him about when he arrived at the training field to warn him about the Vengeful Ghost invading to talk to Tōka-nee and say the Uchiha were coming to talk.

No, not _all_ of them are wearing armour; Izuna's wearing black silk and two swords tied with bright blue cords.

Hashirama looks around for his father, finds him standing to one side of the gate with Tokonoma-ji, Zōden-ji, Tanka-ba and Shitomi, all in armour. On the other side of the gate are Obaasan, Ōka-ba, Tōka-nee, Sumi-ba, Rika-ba, Mito-chan and Yagura, all in kimono and hakama like Hashirama is. Obaasan is wearing a _very_ pretty kimono and has put pins in her hair.

Hashirama dithers for a split-second, goes to stand behind his father like he's supposed to, then almost trips over his hakama hem as a snow leopard steps out from behind Izuna and twines proprietorially around her legs. That spot pattern… Tōnari?

But, but Tōka said Tobirama's chakra was _bound!_ Is that not true anymore? Was Tobirama injured during the assassination attempt? Or was it a kidnapping attempt and Izuna disagreed _strongly_ with anybody stealing her spouse?

Madara tilts his head towards Izuna, who nods; the Uchiha walk closer, Madara falling behind Izuna and the warriors in plain armour spreading out to bracket the more colourful ones. Closer to, Hashirama can see a colourful scaly pattern like a snake, Raijin the thunder god, the skeleton armour, clever fire patterns intertwined with compass points and gates, bundles of rice with clouds, sunbursts and crows, and Madara in vibrantly colourful phoenixes. It's all lovely, but it has to be ceremonial; Madara's never worn this in the field, it's always his coat and the plain red plate armour over it.

The Uchiha in colourful armour spread out on both sides of Izuna, three on one side and four on the other –it's the Deathblow in the crow armour– spaced out like they're expecting an attack. They stop far enough away for it to be respectful, but also close enough that if several of them rush the compound at once, Hashirama probably won't be able to intercept more than just Madara. And even that will be hard, given as Madara's in armour and Hashirama isn't even armed.

Madara then steps forward on Izuna's right; Hashirama tenses, but his friend takes the proper three steps for announcing a senior kinsman –which is confusing when Madara is _older_ than Izuna and also superior on the battlefield– then turns the half-step sideways to bow across the path between Izuna and Hashirama's father.

"Presenting Their Imperial Highness Uchiha Izuna of the fourth-rank dōjō kuge, Inheritor of the Uchiha Clan, First General of the Imperial War Ministry and chosen successor to the Junior Assistant of the Imperial War Minister, to Senju Butsuma, Head of the Senju Clan." He then turns back that half-step so he is one again facing the Senju, but remains in the position of herald.

Hashirama can't make sense of those titles though. Izuna is an Imperial Highness? Isn't it _Madara_ who is the clan heir, not Izuna? Why is Izuna 'first general' when Madara is stronger? What's the 'junior assistant' thing? It feels important but this isn't the time to ask; maybe Tōka will know?

There's an uneasy pause, then Tokonoma-ji takes three steps forward on his older brother's right, turns and bows.

"Presenting the Most Honoured Senju Butsuma, Head of the Senju Clan, to Uchiha Izuna Denka." Then he too straightens and takes the requisite step back as the rest of the Uchiha delegation bow as one, the movement fairly shallow.

Formalities were always Tobirama's strong point, but if Hashirama remembers right then the next step after introductions is, um, gifts? No, that's for visiting; this is confrontation, so the next step is for the injured party to air their grievance.

Sure enough, Izuna loudly slaps both her hands on her thighs, keeping them in the shinobi-polite position –clasped hands in front of the chest, as is polite among civilians, is a threat to ninja who see it as a prelude to handsigns– and speaks:

"Senju Butsuma-san, I demand an accounting from your clan for the wilful, witnessed and proven assassination attempt upon my concubine!"

Hashirama's ears fill with static and he misses whatever Izuna says next, as well as his father's retort. This, how can this? This? Is? His father–

–his father _isn't_ denying it, Hashirama realises, chill creeping into his bones. His father's claiming Izuna has no grounds for her complaint, but he's not saying he _didn't_ send assassins after Tobi.

His father sent Chirinma-ji and Misu-san to kill Tobirama. Misu, who Tobirama has always spoken warmly of for helping him develop his sensing so much. Kyōzoma-nii, who was one of the few older cousins willing to play ninja tag with Tobi growing up and _liked_ that Hashirama's little brother had such sharp senses, as it pushed him to improve his stealth.

Their father. Wants to _kill_ Tobi. His own _son_.

 _Why_ – _?_

Tobi… Tobi _loves_ the clan. There's _nothing_ he won't do for the clan. He's not, not _warm_ but if the two months without his little brother have taught him _anything_ , it's that Tobirama has spent his _life_ trying to make life better for the Senju, finding ways to improve efficiency and income and reduce expenditure, as well as helping with medical research and supporting the clan's warriors and ensuring as many children as possible get good training before they're old enough for the field.

He always thought Tobi was reclusive, but his little brother was working _all the time_. No wonder Tobi was always grumpy when Hashirama dragged him off to socialise, he'd been _resting!_

Does, does his father think Tobi being in love means he will betray the clan? That's _silly_ ; Tobi has _never_ let his feelings get in the way of what the clan needs. In fact, he's more likely to break his own heart than he is to reveal _anything_ to Izuna.

Tōka said Izuna wasn't asking Tobi anything; that she didn't _need_ to. That she could still win without extracting a single secret.

Looking at the audience of elaborately-dressed Uchiha, who _must_ be clan elders or at least senior warriors, who are all watching with bland scorn as his father proves beyond question that he sees nothing wrong with filicide and has no intention of apologising to Izuna or making restitution for the harm he has done to Tobi, Hashirama can sort of see her point.

There's a commotion behind him; Hashirama turns just in time to catch Ajisai-ba, Toshinma-ji's widow, before she can run out of the gates at the Uchiha.

"Ba-san–"

She elbows him in the gut. "Where's my _son_ , Uchiha!" She demands shrilly, yanking on Hashirama's hair and making him wince in pain. "Where's my Tōma-kun, give him _back_ –he deserves a proper burial–" she sobs, flushed and ugly in her distress.

Tōma-kun's _thirteen_. His father sent–? Tobi would _never_ hurt one of their baby cousins, not if he could help it!

Izuna's eyes drift from Hashirama's father to the grieving woman, who lets go of Hashirama's hair and starts shaking against his chest, caught between fury and despair. He cautiously tries to hug her a little bit.

"Senju-san," she says blandly, one hand dropping to rub Tōnari behind the ears, "Senju Tōma-kun surrendered himself after witnessing the deaths of his fellow assassins. He is currently being held, pending the Senju Clan providing suitable restitution for the attempted murder of my spouse. If no suitable terms are offered within the next seven days, then I will take my grievances to the daimyo; Senju Tōma-kun's fate will then be out of my hands."

Tobirama's married to a _noble_ ; Tōma-kun will be _lucky_ to just get his head cut off. The daimyo's laws about assaults on nobles by non-nobles are _very_ strict; shinobi may flout those laws regularly, but that is only possible because the families of those nobles they assassinate cannot conclusively _identify_ the individual responsible, either for the commission or the murder itself. Tobirama explained it to him when they were younger, how it's not _safe_ to talk about those kinsmen with certain specialties, both for their _personal_ safety and so the _clan_ doesn't get blamed just because somebody saw a Senju in the area when somebody important died.

Ajisai-ba sags into his grip, turns her face into his collar and starts sobbing quietly, relief mingling with the expectation of loss. If Izuna _does_ take matters to the daimyo, they are _very_ unlikely to get Tōma-kun's body back.

"Seeing as at this time the Senju Clan are unwilling to make amends, the Uchiha Clan will depart," Izuna continues smoothly. "If in seven days time there has been no indication that the Senju clan is willing to offer reparation, I will appeal to the daimyo to correct the matter according to law."

She nods to Madara then turns around and walks away, Tōnari at her side and her more colourful kinsmen falling in around her. The plainly-armoured ones linger with Madara as a rearguard, walking backwards so as not to take their eyes off the watching Senju. The party walks as far as the treeline, then vanishes into shunshin; Hashirama breathes a sigh of relief.

Nobody died. That's got to count for something.

* * *

Tōka doesn't fight the probing wisp of chakra coiling around her ear as her uncle proves beyond all doubt that yes, he _had_ just tried to murder Tobi despite _everything_ she'd told him about how her little cousin was a _prisoner_ , trying to make the best of his situation to benefit the clan. Tōnari is _right there,_ which says both that Tobirama is endorsing the 'make restitution to the Uchiha' approach and that he fully believes that the Senju will _survive_ it.

It also says that Izuna trusts him with chakra now, at least a little bit. That's also important. The leopards may not fight on demand, but they will be willing guards and offer an implied threat to anybody trying to harm him.

The aural illusion slides into her chakra and vanishes from her limited senses; Madara's voice speaks in her ear, short and to the point:

"Izuna-san would speak to you afterwards, Tōka-san; choose somewhere discreet and she will meet you there. If you must bring a witness, have a care that they are to be trusted."

Tōka meets Madara's eyes across the field and nods ever so slightly; he gives no indication whatsoever of having seen her, but he will have done.

The confrontation is a complete disaster. Nobody dies, but that is not exactly a _good_ thing when her uncle is blinded by pride and loathing to the point of condemning the _entire clan_ to death. Why? Why would he do that? Does he think the daimyo won't take the Uchiha's accusations seriously, because of the feud? Does he not _realise_ that the ongoing détente between the clans will have been _noticed_ , and that combined with the Uchiha's notice of Tobirama's marriage, it paints a certain picture to civilian eyes?

Her uncle received a _letter of congratulations_ from the _daimyo_ , for goodness' sake! To then turn around and make the ruler of Fire Country look like a fool is _deeply_ unwise!

Then again, _Tōka_ only knows all that from two months of helping Tobirama wrestle with the court transcripts. Before her Uchiha imprisonment she was just as ignorant on the nuances and why they matter as her uncle is. But he could _still_ stand to exercise his imagination a little.

As soon as the Uchiha vanish from sight she turns around and marches back into the compound; Hashi has his hands full with Ajisai-ba and of the clan's other sensors, there's nobody who'll be able to track her all the way up to the river. And after _that_ , nobody is going to question her taking a walk to clear her head.

"Daughter?" Except her mother.

"I'm going for a walk," Tōka says shortly, hoping Kaa-san doesn't stop her. She wouldn't do it _directly,_ but her mother is very good at bending the world her way.

Her mother eyes her thoughtfully. "It's not a good time to be out of the compound unarmed and unarmoured," she says, tone soft with worry. "Yagura-san?"

Her fellow warrior pauses. "Yes, O-Sumi-san?" Yagura's always very polite. Tōka suspects it's because of his utter infatuation with cousin Keika; he wants her to think well of him and that seeps into everything he does. Yagura is well-regarded by many, but his manners have not yet won him the attention he seeks.

"My daughter needs to clear her head; would you accompany her?"

Yagura nods. "Of course, O-Sumi-san."

Well that's inconvenient. Then again, Yagura _did_ change out of his armour for the meeting, so that's _something_. More than her father did, certainly. If it comes to it she can always sneak a genjutsu over him so he doesn't notice she's having a chat with their sworn enemies.

How is it _she_ is now the person agitating for peace? This is all Izuna's fault; Tōka's going to complain about this _at length_. To her mother, at least.

* * *

"We've passed beyond the patrol boundary, Tōka-san."

"I _know_ ," Tōka says shortly, still running. To make it plausible she headed out the western side of the compound and is currently tracing a wide loop north almost to the river; Izuna is presumably a good enough sensor to track her movements and intercept accordingly. She _will_ be found, as otherwise Izuna wouldn't have bothered to try and set this up. "But I _need_ to run or I'm going to do something stupid like Challenge my honoured uncle."

"You don't have any armour. Or even a sword."

"I _know_. Hence the running." She's still wearing her formal shirt and hakama _because_ she doesn't have any armour. The tantō slung across her lower back is also _it_ for good-quality weapons right now, and even _that_ is her father's on loan.

She slows as the thicker underbrush of the riverside comes into view ahead, then turns east and walks briskly parallel to the water she can hear but not really see. If Izuna wants to talk she'll show up in the next few minutes; if it's a wild goose chase it was enough to get out of the compound for a bit.

It's a pleasant walk; there's birdsong and rushing water and croaking frogs. She's just about to turn south again when Izuna's voice comes from _behind them_ :

"Ah, Tōka-san; how convenient."

She's spun around even before Izuna's finished saying her _name_ , ducking behind Yagura's right shoulder as he too spins and puts his hands on his sword hilt, but otherwise doesn't attack. The smart move when Izuna can annihilate _both_ of them without raising a sweat.

"Uchiha Izuna Denka," Yagura says politely, eyes fixed on Izuna's chin.

"Please, 'san' is fine for the everyday," Izuna replies, still wearing her many-crested black silk and her brother lurking by the riverside behind her; how did Tōka _miss_ Madara?! He's not _remotely_ subtle with his chakra! He's genuinely _unmissable!_ And yet, she didn't sense him at _all_ until turning around and actually _seeing_ him; is that genjutsu or fuuinjutsu? Or is it _both_?

"Izuna-san then," Tōka says, trying for conciliatory and mostly succeeding. Madara is _always_ a blatant threat; Tōka had been expecting the Deathblow or some other Uchiha. Evidently not; is that because there wasn't anybody else with the delegation Izuna trusts with this? "We were led to believe there would be a week before the Uchiha retaliated further against our clan?"

Izuna smiles faintly. "No retaliation; my concubine requested I return your sword, Tōka-san." She slowly brings her hands together, then plucks a lacquered scabbard with black ties from the general vicinity of her sleeve.

It's _Tōka's sword_. The one that got confiscated when she was stripped of her armour and weapons while lying on the path outside the Diplomatic Quarters, legs newly broken and Hikaku standing over her to ensure she didn't dare lash out at his squad. It even still has all the fittings.

"If Izuna-san would set it on the ground and back away–" Yagura begins, but Izuna shakes her head before he can say anything more.

"Tobirama-san agreed to my conditions of the sword's return, which were that Tōka-san must take it from my hands herself."

Tōka elbows Yagura. "It's fine," she says quietly; "the Uchiha aren't going to compromise their perfect setup over one person. Not when they'll have all of us like a driven boar on a mountaintop by the end of the week."

Yagura's shoulders sag. "As you say, Tōka-san." He steps aside for her to pass.

Izuna stands still, Tōka's sword balanced on outstretched palms, as Tōnari lopes out of the undergrowth and butts at Madara's thigh in passing on her way to twine around Izuna's knees.

"Hello Tōka-chan," the leopard says affably. "Wasn't that a complete disaster; I've been telling Tobirama-kun for _years_ that his father needs to go, and now look where not doing so had brought your clan."

" _Our_ clan, Tōnari?" Not hers and Tobirama's too?

The leopard swings her tail idly. "The leopards are allied with the Hatake not the Senju, Tōka-chan. And you likely know what my summoner's father was of a mind to do when his second wife's firstborn proved more Hatake than Senju, despite our having claimed him in the cradle."

Yes. Tōka _does_ know. There wasn't a five-year gap between Kawarama and the stillborn girl Kikuno-sama died bearing because her uncle was inclined to give his wife a rest after three sons in as many years; it was because Hatake apparently have a very different perspective to Senju in what counts as 'debilitating brain damage' in toddlers and her aunt took offense at the medics' verdict, then greater offense at Butsuma-oji-sama trying to convince her to give up her eldest. Tobirama certainly grew out of most of his difficulties, was never as self-absorbed or as incapable of basic tasks as the medics claimed he would be, but she can see how that would permanently alienate Kikuno-sama's summons.

"So you don't care."

The leopard shakes herself. "Tobirama-kun will be sad if you all die, the cubs especially," she says matter-of-factly, "but Izuna-bi has given him a foster-cub to tend to, which is a fine distraction, and his own cubs will follow soon enough. He also knows without question that you are beyond his power to save; your deaths will not break him."

That is chilling to hear when Tōnari cannot have spent more than half a day at _most_ with Tobirama before accompanying Izuna here; there will be no help from _that_ quarter.

She stiffens her spine, walks forwards –right up to Izuna, whose calm expression has not wavered once through that short but revealing conversation– and takes her sword from Izuna's hands, immediately stepping back out of reach and tying the cords around her waist.

"Thank you," she manages.

"His clan's loss might not break _him,_ " Izuna replies quietly, hands falling to her sides, "but it would certainly break his heart, Tōka-san. Please do not do so."

It is not quite an order, but Tōka can feel the trees closing in nonetheless. "What choice do you think _I_ have?"

Izuna smiles mildly. "There is _always_ a choice, Tōka-san. It is simply that so often people choose to do _nothing_ , because it is so much easier to stand by and claim blamelessness. But I firmly believe that when we are weighed on the scales at the end of our lives, it is not only for the evils we have wrought, but all the times we could have made courageous and moral choices yet held back out of selfishness and fear."

Tōka stares. "Do you think you are _saving_ my cousin?"

Izuna actually laughs. "Of course not, Tōka-san; he is saving himself." Tōka can't help flinching from those words, so simply spoken yet so painful to hear; Izuna smiles, eyes knowing. "Until we meet again."

Then she, Madara and Tōnari are gone.

Tōka turns around, _glares_ at the silent and only faintly judgemental Yagura and marches past him further along the path. "I will tell my father how I got my sword back," she announces, "but it's not _anybody_ else's business, Yagura."

He makes a faintly affirming sound, falling in behind her. Tōka picks up speed, breaking into a run, but it doesn't let her outrun the pain of Izuna's words.

Tobirama is saving himself.

A _lifetime_ of saving the Senju clan, of covering for Hashirama, of helping their aunts with the accounts, arguing about better training for younger kinsmen and honing his sensing to better tailor their tactics to his father's strategic goals. Not _once_ has she considered that maybe, this wasn't good for her little cousin. She knew he was stressed; she knew he was lonely. But only _now_ , with the benefit of the hindsight granted by two months of enforced tedium, can she see that what she previously saw as Tobirama's normal routine was not actually sustainable.

He _put on weight_ while imprisoned, and it wasn't anything to do with lazing around all day. He's still growing and filling out; he's only twenty, he could keep growing for six or seven _years_ and his mother was tall too. He was sleeping better and smiling more, the lines carved by stress less prominent. Captivity had started out stressful but swiftly became terribly, terribly dull, even with books to read and somebody to talk to, but they had developed a routine and it had never been truly _uncomfortable_ despite the threat of maiming looming over her like a storm-cloud on the horizon. The lack of responsibilities and duties had given her cousin time to rest, then relax and even indulge himself in joy.

It's not just his growing feelings for Izuna. It's the lack of pressure to perform to his father's exacting yet imprecise standards. Izuna doesn't _care_ about those standards; she just wants _Tobirama,_ exactly as he is. She doesn't mind the teeth or the body language or the tonal oddities when he missteps while socialising or the frighteningly focused obsessions; to her that's just part of what makes him Tobirama and not somebody else entirely.

She is _never_ getting her cousin back, Tōka realises, dread like a weight in her gut. Even if they miraculously get out of this mess without the daimyo wiping them off the face of the continent and manage _somehow_ broker peace with the Uchiha, Tobirama will _never_ come home.

He's _gone_.

* * *

Hashirama is slumped over the breakfast table. Normally this wouldn't be Tokonoma's problem, but his wife is taking tea with his mother and Tōka-chan is off putting the fear of herself into a range of idiot warriors who have decided that his daughter escaping from the Uchiha compound in indigoes with Madara's name-character neatly stitched into the collar and waistband means rather more happened than she admitted to when making her report.

Tokonoma has also inflicted a range of bruises to silence the gossips, as well as handed out a number of punishment duties. But this is honestly more about their more fanatical kin wanting an excuse to resume the conflict that has been strangely absent for the past two and a half months, along with the fiction being emotionally compelling.

The truth is not particularly interesting in comparison, and is sadly lacking in scandal beyond the fact that Tobirama is even now wearing kimono that would each cost a warrior the better part of a year's wages and acting as Uchiha Izuna's bedroom plaything. Which _is_ genuinely scandalous, but nobody _dares_ talk about it where their clan head might hear them. It's _too_ scandalous.

So they speculate about Tokonoma's daughter instead.

His nephew however isn't wailing or sobbing, which means this is probably something serious. "Hashirama-kun?"

The tall boy with Kaika's eyes looks up at him, misery radiating from his every pore. "Jichan," Hashirama whispers, lower lip wobbling. "Mito… Mito-chan told me she's leaving."

Tokonoma honestly can't blame her; goodness knows he'd send Sumi back to the Kurama if he didn't know she'd stab him somewhere painful for so much as bringing up the subject of her family. He's honestly thankful Tanka's girl is in Uzu with her father; at least she'll make it through this.

"She's going home?"

"I, maybe?" Hashirama looks so terribly lost; Tokonoma knows the boy _adores_ his spitfire Uzumaki bride, who will sit and serve tea with her head bowed and a faint smile painted across her features because she _knows_ that if she starts talking she'll rip her father-in-law a new orifice over whatever casually callous thing he's said to Hashirama _this_ time.

Mito loves her husband, just as fiercely as he loves her; however she's _practical_ in a way that Hashirama isn't. She's strong, a highly capable fuuinjutsu master even, but she knows some battles are better not being fought at all and that's a lesson Hashirama never learnt.

"She asked me if I was going to Challenge Otousan over what he tried to do to Tobirama," Hashirama continues, voice still small and miserable. "And I said no, because even though it was _wrong_ of Otousan to try and," he swallows hard, "to try and have Tobirama _killed_ , if I Challenge him I would have to be willing to kill him, and I _can't_."

Tokonoma isn't sure what his older brother has done to deserve such a virtuous and filial son; nothing, probably. This gentle yet unyielding virtue is all Kaika.

Tokonoma misses Kaika. Butsuma was his best self for her.

"I _can't_ kill my father," Hashirama rambles on, "and she got so _cross_ with me, and I'm not sure why? I don't _think_ it was about me not wanting to kill Otousan; she said something about the look of the thing, then asked me to come to Uzushio with her and I said no because I'm Clan Heir. Then she told me there wasn't going to _be_ a clan if Otousan wasn't removed from power as quickly as possible and _I_ said that the only people who _might_ win a Challenge were either blood relatives or Otousan's lieutenants and it's bad enough us feuding with the Uchiha without us killing each-other as well. Then she told me I was a blind fool and she was going home and I could come or not, but she wasn't going to let Otousan's stupidity kill our unborn."

Hashirama regularly forgets that his wife is an Uzumaki fuuinjutsu master; she's definitely capable of winning a Challenge against her father-in-law, for all that the clan wouldn't follow her afterwards. The Senju may _claim_ that all you have to do lead the clan is win a Challenge against the current Head, but the _truth_ is that unless you have majority backing then you are likely to get Challenged immediately following your hard-won victory, and are far _less_ likely to win that second battle, when you are tired but your Challenger is fresh.

"She's leaving today then?"

Hashirama crumples in on himself. "She had her packing scrolls out."

"Would you like me to talk to her?" He normally wouldn't get involved in his nephew's marital spats, but generally it is Tobirama who helps Hashirama see past the end of his own nose. However Kikuno's oldest isn't here to rescue Kaika's youngest from himself, so Tokonoma will have to brave the glares.

His mother is an Uzumaki. He'd never have _dared_ marry one, much less one of their vaunted fuuinjutsu masters, but Hashirama is fearless in every situation, especially the ones he shouldn't be.

"Would you?" Not even the offer to risk his skin and sanity draws a smile from his oldest living nephew, which says a lot about how bad things are. "I just, I don't know what to _do_ ," Hashirama confesses, hanging his head. "I miss Tobi. He always knew what to do. And how to explain things. I want peace, and I know we _can_ have peace because we've not been fighting with the Uchiha for _months_ now, but I _can't_ kill my father for peace, Jichan. I, that's not _peace_."

His nephew is correct; patricide is not a good foundation for anything. Neither is fratricide, come to that, but Tokonoma is as much his parents' son as his older brother is; the clan comes _first_. And what his brother's done recently _really_ isn't good for the clan.

Butsuma's lost a lot, putting the clan first. But some of those were things he didn't need to give in the first place.

Five dead sons, two of them lost to the battlefield before they were ten; unnecessary losses. Two more sons, dead at thirteen and fifteen; Tokonoma's sure _somebody_ must have mentioned Harima in Hashirama's hearing before now, but Kaika's youngest never met her oldest in more than passing, so may never have _realised_ they were brothers.

Kikuno's refusal to allow her husband _near_ her children for those five years after the mess over Tobirama's developmental oddities had led Butsuma's older children to shun the younger ones, and Keika-chan disowning herself age eight to live with Ōka-nee didn't exactly _help_. She's Hashirama's only surviving older sibling, and for all he calls her 'Nee-san' Tokonoma isn't sure his nephew realises she is _actually_ his sister, not just another older cousin.

"What do you want to say to Mito-chan?"

"I want her to be happy," his nephew whispers. "I don't want her to go; I want her to stay here with me. She's so good to me, Jichan. But if she wants to go, I _won't_ stop her. I can't abandon the clan, but she's right that she should put the baby first. I just, I don't know what will _help_."

It is unfortunately true that Tobirama was always the one with a knack for extracting Hashirama from messes of his own making; Kikuno's boy would have made an _excellent_ Clan Head, but Butsuma was never going to pass over the boy with Kaika's eyes and smile in favour of the child he once condemned as 'unnatural' and tried to convince his second wife to send back to whatever hell it had sprung from. Hardly better than the medic's assertion that Tobirama would never be more than a burden on the clan, which has since been proven wrong ten thousand times over; his nephew is a fine warrior and making the best of a bad sittuation, _not_ an oni bringing down sickness and bad luck on them all.

Kikuno had taken her husband's superstition and the medic's censure _exceptionally_ badly, and that fight split the clan for five years. Her death less than a year after their tentative reconciliation hadn't exactly _helped_ , but at least by then Tobirama was growing into a promising young warrior and his younger brothers were far more in line with their father's expectations. Publically at least.

Then Itama and Kawarama had died, and Tobirama had once again borne the brunt of his father's displeasure. Not that Hashirama had ever noticed. He _should_ have, should have been _made_ to see, but Tokonoma has never had to step in to cover up for his nephew's various mishaps; Tobirama always got there first.

"I'll tell her."

"Thank you, Jichan."

It's a short walk to the Clan Hall; Tokonoma walks in the front door, takes off his sandals and sets out along the central corridor towards the back of the building where Mito's private wing is. He's halfway down when he hears a cascade of shattering ceramic; turning towards the noise, Tokonoma bounds across the courtyard in bare feet, over a roof and lands in the private garden attached to his brother's favourite meeting room.

The doors to the garden are open; the tea set is scattered across the stone floor around the table, mostly broken shards, and his brother's headless corpse is slumped across the tray. Shitomi is sprawled by the door leading to the hallway, body in at _least_ seven pieces. The air tastes of iron, acid and voided bowels; Tokonoma groans.

The perpetrator stands frozen in the middle of this mess, Shitomi's sword gripped in their off-hand.

"So, why?" Tokonoma asks, then immediately waves a hand. "No, don't answer that; I can guess." He steps quickly into the room, gently takes the sword and bends over Shitomi's corpse to open the fingers of his severed right fist so they grip the hilt. "You walked in on Shitomi having just murdered our Clan Head and instantly acted to avenge him. Understood?" People who really _understand_ that doing something for the clan is _costly_ are few and far between and he doesn't want to lose _this_ one.

The bloodied killer blinks very slowly, then ducks their head, murmuring agreement.

"Good. Go through the courtyard and over the back wall to the well and get that blood out of your hair. Maybe change clothes as well; I want you looking _pristine_ for when I have to present this to the clan later." It wasn't a Challenge, so Butsuma's death puts his next of kin in power. However Hashirama is _most certainly_ not able to lead the Senju without Tobirama here to hold his hand, which means Tokonoma is going to have to do it.

His wife is going to _skin_ him for this. But at least they'll be alive for it.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues more-or-less directly from chapter 29.

Talking about letters somehow wanders into talking about art again, so when Moreya-san brings Kiso-kun back for dinner Izuna is regaling him with an account of a mission where she spent two weeks playing decoy in a ryokan in a famous resort town, painting portraits of other guests and the staff –in… variously decent states of dress– as the rest of her squad carried out a range of thefts, impersonations and sabotage goals in the background. There are even paintings to go with the story; Tobirama isn't sure whether he should be amused or concerned that Izuna remembers all her subjects' _names_ even two years on, or that most of these people are either very rich, titled nobility or both. Is her memory for others better than his, or does her bloodline allow her to remember things heard as well as seen? Tobirama knows he's not the best at faces, but he compensates with his chakra sense, his nose –people do truly all have different scents, even aside from perfumes and soaps– and his hearing to pinpoint identities even years later.

Or perhaps the _concern_ is that all these people think Izuna's a man, yet a lot of otherwise respectable ladies were apparently fine with taking off their clothes in private and letting a presumably-male shinobi paint them true to life. That has _implications_ , given Izuna's reputation.

"How many noble ladies are you on first-name terms with anyway?"

Izuna grins. "A _lot_ of them," she confides cheerfully. "A couple of these ladies have married since I painted them; I think they wanted the illusion of adventure before having to set aside their furisode and become respectable matrons."

"And their idea of adventure was to strip naked for a shinobi nobleman with a perilously promiscuous reputation and let him paint them from life, said maidenly furisode artistically draped across the floor around them?" And slightly over their bodies in some cases, but that hardly makes the resulting paintings any _more_ decent. Or the setting less scandalous. He almost has to wonder whether any of Izuna's escapades have made it into the pillow book Tōka took with her when she left.

Izuna chuckles. "Evidently, yes."

"Does your father know about these?"

"They weren't mission relevant." So no, Tajima does _not_. "Also, they're private." So her brothers likely don't know about them either.

"Yet you are showing _me,_ " Tobirama notes.

"I was _asked_ to keep these," Izuna says mildly, "and a few of the ladies in question actually _said,_ 'for you own enjoyment'. You're my concubine; it's not _inappropriate_ for me to share them."

Tobirama wonders what kind of marriages those women were expecting to end up in, that they _wanted_ someone they believed to be a nobleman of about their own age to use indecent art of them as fantasy material. He also _really_ has to wonder what Izuna's reputation looks like from a Courtly angle, because the impression he is getting is that the rampant promiscuity is somehow considered _less_ scandalously inappropriate than it should be. He must be missing something here, but it's not the first time the sensibilities of the nobility have surprised him and probably won't be the last either.

"How did these young ladies' families take these liberties?" He asks.

Izuna grins. "Who says they found out?" She asks mischievously. "There was a veritable _conspiracy_ of young noblewomen in the ryokan over that fortnight, and their maids were all too happy to supervise and assure their employers that not _once_ did I lay a hand on their mistresses in a less than appropriately respectful manner."

"Oh I'm sure you were _very_ respectful as they whimpered their way to peak under your fingers," Tobirama says sardonically, huffing and rolling his eyes as his wife giggles behind her sleeves. The paintings are _very_ good… but some of the poses have a languid look which he can now accurately identify as post-coital lassitude.

"Does my Treasure also wish to be so painted?" Izuna asks teasingly. "Or would he prefer to be the one holding the brush?"

The idea of Izuna painting him is not unpleasant, although he is not particularly moved by the thought of being naked, half-naked or even slightly suggestively exposed for it. However the idea of _Izuna_ laying herself out for _him_ to paint is… something. Definitely something. "I thought I wasn't allowed brush and ink."

"I'd be _supervising_ you," Izuna says sweetly. "You couldn't possibly get up to _dangerous_ levels of mischief while supervised." The implication being, that Izuna believes he can slide a certain level of mischief past her regardless. Tobirama tries not to be flattered; he is thoroughly caged, so any mischief he accomplishes will certainly be minor and possibly even accidental.

"My wife would let me paint her for my own enjoyment? So I can feel a little less lonely when she is away from home?"

"Would it please my concubine to do so?" Izuna asks coyly.

Tobirama can admit he's perhaps not as fluent an artist as Izuna evidently is –her freehand ink-work is _superb_ – but given pencils and enough time he can produce a strong likeness to go over in ink for permanence's sake. Realism has always been the goal, not the elegantly suggestive simplicity of some of these ink paintings –some monochrome, others coloured, some intricately detailed, others left partly to the imagination– but that's because he learned drawing as a shinobi skill, not a noble pastime.

"I would enjoy use of ink and paper when my wife is present," he says honestly, "both to paint her and for ease in taking notes on other subjects."

"That should not be too much trouble, Treasure."

He isn't quite sure if he believes it –how can it be _that_ easy– but he smiles gratefully at her as Kiso dashes in from the genkan and throws himself over Tobirama's lab, babbling semi-incomprehensibly about his afternoon.

He's not going to get his hopes up. But it would be nice, to be allowed ink.

* * *

Madara and Hikaku arrive not long after dinner, which makes it rather more challenging to get Kiso-kun into bed, given the evidence of entertaining evening activities the toddler is being forced to miss out on. Tōnari-ba however proves her worth yet again, taking over with promises of bedtime stories and a wink at Izuna as she herds the boy into Izuna's bedroom.

Tobirama's bedroom now has a futon in it, stiff and new-smelling but covered in familiar sheets to offset the equally new blankets. Izuna assures him that _all_ the bedding from the night of the assassination attempt has been burnt, which is a great relief, but it is equally nice to have his other sheets returned.

"So why are we drinking when Izuna _can't_ drink?" Hikaku asks dryly once Kiso has been tucked in, kissed and Tōnari has settled into story-time behind the closed fusuma. One of the Hatake bedtime ones that were staples of his own childhood, going by what drifts through the wall panels.

"I _will_ be drinking, just not alcohol," Izuna replies mildly. "And while I have shōchū for you gentlemen, _I_ will be drinking my liquor-less plum. And if I end up finishing it, I will probably cry."

"Oh, good enough," the Deathblow capitulates, looking terribly incongruous to Tobirama in a simple spun silk kimono in peach-petal pink, printed with clusters of cherry leaves complete with dangling red fruit, a yellow soft obi around his waist. He hopes Tōka sees this one day; she will probably believe it's an illusion and try to dispel it. It's the first time he's ever seen the Deathblow in anything other than working indigo, which even the brightly-patterned armour was layered over.

Madara at least is wearing the same dull green and charcoal grey pine-branch-printed kimono with the red soft obi that he wore when he showed up injured to make ama-cha; it's almost comfortably familiar compared to Hikaku's pink with red and light green. Izuna is wearing her spun silk daylily yellow kimono with the red obi, which is evidently favoured indoor-wear, and Tobirama has put the kimono he wore earlier to wash and changed into his pale brown woollen kimono on the basis that it is the least formal thing he owns, with the rapeseed green soft obi belting it.

The room Izuna picks for the drinking party is the entrance hall facing the genkan, bracketed by their respective studies, on the basis that it means there're more walls between them and where Kiso is sleeping. Will soon be _actually_ sleeping, hopefully. Tobirama watches as his wife sets out several rather large ceramic bottles, drinking cups and multiple dishes of sakana, from arare and vegetable pickles to dried sardine-crackers and even some grilled eel.

Tobirama immediately takes a slice of the eel; it is delicious.

"Hey," Madara says mildly, then lights up when Izuna also produces a small dish of inarizushi. "For me? You're the best brother –sorry, sister– I could possibly ask for."

"Do I not get a favourite food?" Hikaku complains spuriously.

"You are neither my spouse nor my sibling," Izuna retorts, but Tobirama notices how the Deathblow grins as she sets out a plate of tamagoyaki; evidently Hikaku is a _favoured_ cousin.

"So, what's the plan?" Madara asks, pouring the first round of shōchū.

"Well, ideally we'd make conversation," Izuna says, carefully setting her bottle of alcohol-free umeshu next to her –the bottle is blue and white ceramic, unlike the brown glaze on the various shōchū bottles, to make distinguishing them easier– "but seeing as that's probably a bit challenging, I thought we could play a drinking game."

"What _kind_ of drinking game?" Tobirama asks cautiously. He's seen the kind of things his cousins get up to when drunk and none of them were really very fun.

"It's called 'never have I ever,' and you'll like it," Hikaku says easily, picking up the thread as he takes a slither of pickles with his chopsticks. "We each take it in turns to say something we've never done, and if one of the other drinkers _has_ done it, they have to empty their cup. If _nobody's_ done it, we all have to drink." He smiles. "Honesty is paramount, and since Izuna's not really drinking she can keep the rest of us honest."

"So the _goal_ of this game is to get everybody _else_ drunk," Tobirama determines.

"And, ideally, to prompt the sharing of amusing stories," Hikaku drawls. "I'll start: never have I ever started a riot."

Izuna sighs, picks up her cup and drains it. "Such a waste of good umeshu," she laments, taking a handful of sardine-crackers.

Tobirama gapes. "You _started_ a _riot?_ "

"Not _directly,_ " Izuna grumbles as the other Uchiha present chuckle and start digging into the snacks. "It was while I was in Water Country the second time; a bunch of sailors on the waterfront were having a loud argument with their employer over wages. I was trying to _avoid_ it turning violent, so I started up a song." She pops half a cracker into her mouth.

"That song being, 'Pay Me My Money Now'," Hikaku says drolly, sipping his shōchū. Assured that the drinking game is just about _emptying_ his cup rather than dictating who gets to drink at all, Tobirama cautiously sips his own; it tastes very pleasant despite the faint bite. A _very_ faint bite; he was right that this is something it would be _very_ easy to overindulge with. He should try to eat first; if food is being digested it slows the effects of alcohol. Tobirama reaches for the pickles.

Madara sniggers over his own shōchū. "Pay me or go to jail; pay me my money now," he sings, deep voice pleasantly tuneful, then eats an inarizushi.

Tobirama can see how that song could start a riot, even when not sung by someone as persuasive as Izuna is.

"My turn," Izuna declares after swallowing the last of her crackers and picking up a handful of arare. "Never have I ever… been mistaken for a woman when in armour."

Why. Why _this_. Tobirama sighs and drains his cup, then realises Hikaku has just done the same and all three Uchiha are staring at him. Ah, so he _wasn't_ the intended target. "I was fifteen," he says tiredly, "we were in Tea Country, it was raining so we were all in hats and my voice hadn't broken yet. The client had been told to expect 'Senju Tōka' and they thought that was _me_." He takes another slice of eel.

"That's less undignified than mine," Hikaku says drolly, selecting a tamagoyaki. "I had a mission to find a runaway onna-bugeisha, and got mistaken _for_ said lady _twice_ after locating her. While she was _right there_. She thought it was terribly funny."

Tobirama's lips twitch; yes, that _is_ funny. "My turn?" He checks after eating a few senbei and having his cup refilled by Madara.

"Hn," both Izuna and her brother agree simultaneously.

"Never have I ever… set my opponent on fire." Tobirama smirks as all three Uchiha glare at him and drain their cups.

"Dirty," Hikaku announces, taking another piece of tamagoyaki and then some pickles.

"So dirty," Madara agrees, pouring more shōchū out as Izuna serves herself more umeshu. They both also eat, Izuna stealing one of the inarizushi and Madara taking some sardine crackers and pickles.

"My turn," Madara says after a comfortable interval has passed. "Never have I ever _fallen into bed with my enemy._ "

Izuna sighs in a _very_ put-upon fashion as she drains her cup again, then snags a slice of tamagoyaki; Tobirama also drains the rest of his cup. That's two entire cups of shōchū already and the evening's barely started. The alcohol is going to hit him all at once, isn't it?

Madara sniggers at them. Tobirama suspects he's tipsy already. That was very fast; he expected Madara to be more like Hashirama, needing entire bottles to get even slightly tipsy, as higher chakra levels generally mean more effort is needed for drunkenness.

There's a pause as Hikaku tops up everybody's cups and they all eat more of the sakana; Tobirama exchanges a slice of his eel for one of the Deathblow's tamagoyaki, which wins him a light smile. Izuna is making steady inroads on the sardine-crackers and the pickles, but there's no shortage of anything so it's hardly an issue.

"My go again," Hikaku says conversationally. "Never have I ever impersonated my father to get a laugh."

Izuna _and_ Madara both pick up their cups; Tobirama hesitates, then does likewise.

"You too?" Madara asks curiously as he eats inarizushi, pickles and arare.

Tobirama rolls his eyes and picks up another slice of eel as Madara pours the next round. "Campaigns are terrible and sometimes orders are stupid."

Madara nods solemnly, setting the bottle aside. "Indeed."

Izuna hums, fingertips tapping the rim of her cup. "Never have I ever hid in a henhouse to avoid a girl."

Hikaku drains his cup. "I hate you, cousin," he informs Izuna, who smirks at him as she helps herself to pickles.

"It was before he started seeing Yori," Izuna adds helpfully to Tobirama after swallowing. "He was desperately smitten and terrified of being rejected. Yori eventually put everybody out of his misery by dragging him out of his latest hiding place and kissing him senseless."

Tobirama smirks over his own sakana, then tries to think of something that will catch more than one Uchiha. It's harder than it might be. He hasn't exactly had time to prepare for this game. "Never have I ever been to Court," he says eventually.

"Mean," Madara says reproachfully as he and Izuna both drink. Then the older man eats an inarizushi and some more arare, expression pensive as Hikaku pours a fresh round from a new bottle; no, that's definitely a 'thinking of revenge' face. "Never have I ever exploded something by accident."

Izuna makes a miserable whimpering noise as she pours herself another cup of umeshu and Tobirama drains his own cup. The perils of fuuinjutsu, indeed; he eats more eel and takes some arare as well.

Hikaku takes a chunk of pickle. "Never have I ever," he says blandly, "impersonated somebody while naked."

Izuna silently drains another cup of alcohol-free liquor. Opposite her Madara chokes on his arare.

"You, you?!"

Hikaku grins. " _Well_ –"

"Never have I ever _fled goats,_ " Izuna interrupts vindictively, taking a pointed bite out of a sardine cracker.

Hikaku stops. Glares. Drains his own cup and instantly pours another round before taking more tamayoyaki and pickles. Madara's demanding gesture goes pointedly unanswered by either of the other two; the wonders of mutual blackmail between cousins. Hikaku must have _all_ the good stories, no wonder they've got it out for each-other.

Tobirama tries very hard not to giggle through his food as he thinks about what to pick next. "Never have I ever," he enunciates carefully after swallowing, " _yelled_ my opponent's name across the battlefield like a _jilted lover_."

Hikaku _roars_ with laughter, rocking back on his ankles and slapping his hand on his thigh. Izuna sniggers behind her sleeve, surreptitiously stuffing more arare and sardine crackers into her mouth. Madara stares at him in bewildered betrayal for several long seconds, then drains his shōchū without a word and eats two inarizushi, one after the other.

Tobirama sniggers as the laughter gradually dies down and helps himself to more pickles and another slice of eel. Food will help; Ōka-ba says so.

Madara half-fills his cup with the last of the bottle, glares, sets the empty jug aside next to the other one and tops up his cup from the third bottle. "Never have I ever hit my brother with a _fish_ ," he announces, all wounded dignity.

Tobirama sighs and drinks. He is at least in good company; Hikaku and Izuna both drink as well.

"When did you do that?" Izuna asks him as they all eat some more and Madara pours another round.

"Several times," Tobirama admits. "Mostly when he interra, _interrupted_ me while I was practicing healing jutsu when I was younger. We practice them on fish." He sighs; fish _always_ tastes bad after being used for jutsu practice. "You?"

"When he was moping about Hashirama killing his squad-mates," Izuna replies easily. "It made him really mad at me but then he cried, so it helped."

That… doesn't _quite_ make sense, but Tobirama nods anyway. And eats more arare.

Hikaku goes next. "Never have I ever slept up a tree to avoid cows."

Tobirama drinks again, then carefully takes another slice of eel. He can't remember how many cups he's drunk, so eating more is good. Madara also drinks.

"When were you avoiding cows?" Tobirama asks his brother-in-law over the pickles. It probably wasn't Inuzuka-related like Tobirama's incident was.

"I was in Grass," Madara says, tone petulant. "They have really _mean_ cows in Grass."

Tobirama accepts this wisdom and eats some more pickles. Avoiding mean cows is very sensible.

Izuna takes a slice of eel as she contemplates her turn, so Tobirama steals one of Madara's inarizushi.

"Never," his wife says sweetly, "have I _ever_ ended up in somebody else's bed by _accident_."

"Boo!" Madara jeers, downing his cup.

"Dirty," Hikaku agrees longsufferingly, doing likewise.

"I was asleep on my feet," Tobirama complains, also draining his cup. "An' I _know_ you end up in other people's beds a _lot_ , Lord-Wife."

"Yes I have," she agrees as they all take more food from the rather depleted-looking plates, "but it's _always_ been on purpose, not by accident."

Tobirama contemplates this. "That's fair," he decides, "an' I like you in my bed on purpose." He shuffles around the tatami to lean into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and propping his chin on her shoulder. "You're _warm_."

"Gone," Hikaku says drolly.

"Shush," Izuna says, then as Tobirama's about to ask what's going on, she turns and kisses him. She tastes sweet-sour like the umeshu.

"Never have I ever," Madara says pensively, chakra flaring and wavering erratically, "signed a summoning contract."

"That's _mean_ ," Tobirama enunciates, pouting as Hikaku sighs and knocks back his drink. Izuna kisses his cheek.

"You can have my umeshu this time."

The sweet-sour bite is a shock after the mellow flavour of the shōchū, but Tobirama feels slightly more awake for it. Is it late? He feels like it's late. Time is spinning, it _must_ be late.

"Never, have I ever," Hikaku says carefully after swallowing his pickles, "been hired for relationship advice."

Izuna groans and pours herself another cup of the plum liquor, then drinks it all. "That was _one time_ , Hikaku!"

Hikaku blinks at her, face solemn with a tamagoyaki flopping between his chopsticks at chin level. "It was a _daimyo_ , I-nee. A daimyo. Hired _you_. To help him _woo_ somebody." He shoves the omelette in his mouth.

Tobirama considers this. "Did they fall for him, or for you?"

Hikaku cackles though his mouthful of egg, then coughs repeatedly into his hand. Izuna leans forwards and pokes her cousin in the ribs as the choking sounds finally fade again. "Hush you; I was the very _soul_ of discretion! The lady in question did not see me _once!_ Well, not to recognise me. I provided advice, coaching and set up some appropriate events."

"And sang in them," Hikaku blurts out after swallowing, still wheezing slightly.

"Well yes; and it _worked_ , they're happily married!"

"My honoured cousin," Hikaku manages, "taught a daimyo _soft interrogation_ to woo his beloved with."

Tobirama blinks, then blinks again. "How do you woo somebody with interrogation?" Interrogation's not nice. Not soft at all.

Izuna kisses his cheek again. "Active listening, Treasure. Everybody likes to be heard." She turns to glare at Hikaku again, who is wetting his throat with more shōchū. "And it _worked_ , I got paid and everything!"

"Hired for _courting advice_ , I-nee."

Izuna huffs, so Tobirama catches her chin and kisses her; kisses always make him feel happy. Sure enough, she softens in his arms, chakra warm.

"Well," she says after pulling back, smirking conspiratorially at Tobirama, "never have _I_ ever claimed reading was 'unnecessary' for a warrior."

Hikaku groans, sagging forwards until his forehead touches the tatami. "So _mean_ , I-nee," he whines into the mats. "Ta-ji _laughed_ at me!"

"And now you know why," Izuna says cheerfully, pouring her cousin more alcohol, which he dutifully sits up and drinks.

"Bein' a warrior is _all_ reading," Madara grumbles, emptying his cup, eating the last of the inarizushi and then poking at the empty plate with his chopsticks as though more of his favourite food might appear if he glares at it long enough. Tobirama pushes the remnants of the eel towards him.

"Have eel," he says generously; "s'nice. Not sad at _all_. Wife _never_ gives me sad fish."

"Sad fish, Treasure?" Izuna asks as Madara obediently takes some eel and stuffs it in his mouth.

Tobirama shuffles sideways a bit so he can wrap both arms around his wife. "Senju fish is sad fish," he says mournfully. "Been used for jutsu training firs'. Terrified and choked to death by chakra poisoning. Tastes so _sad_." He hiccups, trying not to cry.

"Well you don't have to eat sad fish anymore, do you?" His wife points out, kissing his cheek.

"No, you give me _good_ fish," Tobirama agrees, tears forgotten as he nuzzles her neck. "Fresh and sweet and wriggling, the _best_ fish. Nobody else _ever_ gave me so much fish; that's how I know you love me best."

Izuna quivers with laughter; he made her happy! Her chakra feels lovely when she's happy, all sparkly and cosy. He wants to wrap her around himself and sink into her and stay there forever.

Madara collapses sideways with a loud thump, giggling madly; Hikaku sighs and eats another tamagoyaki. "I want my Yori," the Deathblow says thoughtfully. "She's gonna roll her eyes at me for getting drunk with you and Dara-nii, I-nee."

" _Are_ you drunk, Hiku?" Izuna asks. Tobirama frowns; isn't his name _Hikaku_ , not Hiku? Is this like Tōka-nee calling him 'Tobi'?

"Yup," Hikaku says firmly, nodding solemnly. "And so's Dara-nii." He leans closer, then whispers loudly: "He's _giggling_."

Tobirama looks at Madara; he _is_ giggling. Giggling a _lot_. He's never heard Madara giggle before, it's funny.

Izuna nods. "So he is." She looks at the remains of the food. "Tobirama, d'you want the last of the eel?"

"Yes," Tobirama says instantly, not letting go of his wife. She's the best thing he's ever been given and he's _keeping_ her.

"I'm keeping you too, don't worry," his wife murmurs, bringing the eel within reach. Tobirama still doesn't let go of her; wife is more important than fish.

Wife feeds him the eel with her chopsticks as Madara giggles and hiccups in the background and Hikaku finishes off the tamagoyaki. It's nice. Tobirama yawns widely and slumps forward, cheek resting on Wife's shoulder.

"Tired," he mumbles.

"Then sleep, Tobirama."

"Can call me s'm'th'n shorter," he mumbles, tipping his head to kiss the bite-scar on the back of her neck. "I don' mind."

"I will think of something then," she assures him, chakra coiling around him tenderly. It feels so _good_ when she touches him like that.

"Gonna fuck me, Wife?" He _wants_ her to. Wants to be eaten up and pinned down and left breathless and tingly.

She chuckles, chakra caressing his skin through his kimono. "When you're sober, dear heart."

She _means_ that; Tobirama succumbs to sleep, utterly content.

* * *

Tobirama wakes to a new futon with old sheets, no wife, no baby and a bed full of leopard; he is briefly upset, then the previous night comes back to him all at once and he rolls onto his face so he can groan into his pillow. He said _all_ of that! In front of Madara _and_ Hikaku!

He was right; that shōchū is _lethal_. He didn't even _notice_ inebriation creeping up on him, stealing his reason and restraint. The game hadn't even lasted that long! At least he's not suffering the clouded memory that various kin have claimed is a regular side-effect of over-indulging; then again, _not_ remembering would probably be less uncomfortable.

All those things he said without thinking. Yes, he's learned a _lot_ about his wife –and about Madara and Hikaku as well– but he's also given a lot away.

Most of it trivial, admittedly. But some of it…

At least Madara and Hikaku were probably drunk enough to miss those bits.

Tobirama would rather _like_ to stay in bed for a while longer, but his bladder is now insisting on a trip to the washroom. So he gets up –realises that wearing his cotton persimmon-print sleeping yukata means his wife undressed him while he was passed out– and slides his feet into his slippers, grabbing the wool kimono draped over his screen to wrap around himself before braving the cool outdoors. It's raining steadily –he can hear it drumming on the roof overhead– so it's not at all warm.

He's glad she didn't put him in the silk sleepwear; he's sweated out some of the alcohol in the night, so this yukata _needs_ a wash before he wears it again.

He can still sense Madara in the house; in Izuna's bedroom, in fact. Tobirama is reminded of Izuna's comment about sleepwalking; presumably his wife didn't bother trying to put her brother to bed elsewhere, seeing as she knew he'd end up on her futon regardless.

Considering Madara, he decides he's grateful for his wife putting him in his own bed, however lonely it was to wake up with only Tōnari for company. He would _not_ have enjoyed waking up to Madara at close range; might even have reacted instinctively with violence, which could only have been incredibly awkward. Especially if he accidentally provoked his sleeping brother-in-law into injuring him.

Leaving the washroom he finds Kiso bouncing on the engawa. "Do you need the toilet, Kiso-kun?"

The toddler nods, grabbing a handful of his kimono. Tobirama takes the boy into the washroom and helps him wrestle his sleepwear into submission, then picks him up afterwards so he can wash his hands properly in the sink. "Better?"

"Hn." Kiso looks up at him after drying his hands. "Wan' to sleep wif Keifu, _always_."

Tobirama's heart _aches_. "You can move your futon into my bedroom, Kiso-kun." If it comes to it they can move the sleeping toddler into the adjacent room, futon and all, while he and Izuna are being intimate.

The toddler squirms around in his grip and hugs his neck. "Tanks, Keifu," he mumbles into the exposed yukata collar.

Tobirama kisses the top of Kiso's head. "Shall we go for breakfast now?"

"Hn!"

* * *

Breakfast with Madara there is _odd_. Not _bad_ –his brother-in-law is wonderfully quiet and civilised at this early hour compared to Anija– but definitely very strange. Naka-Dragon hands up the food to Madara, who brings it into the iori room and passes the bowls of katemeshi around.

"Ii for Ii-chan," he says teasingly, chuckling softly as Izuna rolls her eyes at him.

Tobirama realises then that it's not 'i-nee' that Hikaku has been calling Izuna, but 'ii-nee'. "Are you calling your sister _food?_ "

Madara grins. "I am," he confirms lightly. "Little Izuna-chan used to _scream_ if a meal was even _slightly_ late, and even now she eats like she's going to starve to death if she doesn't clear her plate _and_ her second serving within a quarter-hour of sitting down."

Tobirama has not noticed this at _all_. Hasn't had the _chance_ to, he corrects himself; she had brought meals to them in the Diplomatic Quarters and eaten regular portions with them, but he has no way of knowing what she has been eating beyond that. He's never thought about it either.

"It's not really obvious right now," his brother-in-law concedes, "seeing as she's not fighting, but usually she eats like she might devour her fellow diners if there's not enough food being served." He smiles. "And she's _always_ snacking."

Tobirama considers this. It's true that last night Izuna did make good headway through the sakana, and also that she _does_ seem to keep quite a bit of food in those sleeve-seals of hers. But in the Diplomatic Quarters he only saw her eating at meals, and when she brought nibbles to eat with the alcohol-free liquor or the sweets for having with tea.

"My wife is a glutton?" He asks tentatively.

Madara snorts, easily ducking the floor cushion Izuna hefts at his head. "No," he says easily, "it's just something that happens sometimes when you're Fire Natured. The inner furnace runs a bit hotter than usual; got to keep it stoked to keep chakra levels up. Usually people with those issues don't become warriors, but well." He shrugs. "Izuna didn't have a choice."

Something metabolic then? That could well explain why Izuna has always looked like she's running a few meals short. Evidently _not_ fighting is doing wonders for her health in that sense; she's not put on weight that Tobirama's noticed, but her face _is_ slightly less thin.

"An explanation for why my wife fights like a demon but looks like a stiff breeze could blow her away," he teases, accepting the light slap to his shoulder as inevitable as he digs into his own meal.

* * *

Naka-Scallion arrives to collect Kiso right after breakfast; Madara dresses the boy in a much-mended little green padded coat and tiny sandals before letting him run out the front door, then follows after him at a more sedate pace once he has put his own coat on over his house kimono and slipped his feet into geta.

Then it is once more just Tobirama and Izuna in the house as the rain patters on the roof and whispers over the garden.

His wife joins him on the engawa, looking out at the rain and the clan compound beyond the garden, shrouded and misty through the low cloud.

"I'm going to work on music today," she tells him, "and do some crafts. Would you like to write?"

He will _really_ get to use ink? "Very much," Tobirama admits instantly. He's wearing the fish kimono today, over both the rich green kimono _and_ the shrimp print one –as well as a nagajuban– because it's chillier than it's been for a while and the Amaterasu Residence lacks fuuinjutsu heating, but that's still all kimono with masculine sleeves so he won't have too much trouble keeping them out of the way while writing.

"I'll get a desk out for you then."

Tobirama turns and catches his wife before she can leave, drawing her close and kissing her. "Thank you," he tells her in between kisses, the feel of her body in his arms and her chakra nestled against his warming him even through all the layers of silk.

"Not _much_ I wouldn't do for you, Treasure," His wife murmurs as they step inside and close the shōji.

Tobirama is reminded of Susano-o in the Diplomatic Quarters. "How much did you have to eat, after running to my rescue?"

Izuna smiles. "Quite a bit; I was well-rested though, and it made all the difference."

Implying that Izuna has not been 'well-rested' when fighting him for… some time. Tobirama feels vaguely dissatisfied by that; he has always prided himself on equalling Izuna despite the advantage granted by the sharingan, and to discover that Izuna was always teetering on the edge of starvation, so had to fiercely ration her energy to not succumb to chakra exhaustion, is vaguely humiliating. Then again, their last fight proved _decisively_ that Izuna can outsmart him if she really puts her mind to it, so he's probably better off letting his pride go.

Especially since he recently sold it to Izuna for a summer wardrobe without even thinking to add conditions on what said wardrobe should and should not include.

* * *

Tobirama loses himself in writing; there's so _much_ he wants to write, to jot down so he can read it later and annotate it and so many things he's been working on in his mind since getting the waxed boards that, while much appreciated, aren't anywhere _near_ as good as the high-quality inkstick Izuna set out for him on the inkstone and the fine brush on its stand. Can't come close to matching his joy at having lengths and _lengths_ of cheap hemp paper to write on, quick small characters conveying a wealth of ideas and hopes.

He's been practicing all many the new characters he's learned since getting the boards, but this is his first time drawing a lot of them in ink; he starts with calligraphy practice on various scraps of paper as his ideas coalesce, then turns to writing with fervent determination.

He surfaces with a dry throat when the inkstick vanishes; his wife faces him across the desk, the partial stick held hostage in one hand and a cup of tea offered with the other.

Tobirama drinks the tea, then the second cup as well. "Have I earned the ink back yet?" He asks dryly.

Izuna laughs, barely hiding it behind her sleeve. "I'm _concerned_ for you, Treasure; it's been several hours and you've not drunk anything since breakfast."

"I drunk two cups of tea just now."

Izuna grins, not annoyed in the slightest. "Yes, you did," she agrees, "but I know if I give you back the ink a third cup will just sit and go cold."

Tobirama can concede that is true; it has happened many times before. He gets focused on things to the point of obsession, or so he has been told. He's not sure how his long-term academic focus is _different_ to his cousins' meticulous practice and passion for their various specialties, but apparently it is.

"So this is fair warning, Treasure: I am giving the ink back now, but I am likely to steal it again later, so you drink more." She sets the inkstick back on the inkstone; Tobirama snatches it up.

"So noted, Lord-Wife." At least she's not trying to drag him off away from his writing. That never helps, as he loses sleep later because his mind is too full for him to rest until he's poured all the ideas out of it.

* * *

Noon arrives far too soon and brings Kiso back into the house; Tobirama regretfully lets Izuna pack away the ink, brush and desk, rolls up his dry notes and moves the still-damp ones into his study, then tries to take an interest in the toddler and his tale of his various morning activities. It gets easier as lunch progresses, and by the time Kiso is up from his nap after the meal he feels settled again.

An afternoon in the house with a toddler still feels very challenging –what is he _supposed_ to do in this setting?– except that Izuna already has a plan, and that plan involves her shamisen. Tobirama is therefore treated to a run-through of what Uchiha consider child-appropriate music and is dragged into dancing with a two-year-old. Not that he minds in the slightest.

In between the lively dancing music there are clapping songs, counting songs, story-songs and call-and-reply songs like the one being sung by the warriors going through the field on his second walking day. Most of them are sung several times, so by mid-afternoon Tobirama can pick out half a dozen of the tunes and is getting started on memorising the words. It's both more fun and less effort than he was expecting, although he can tell that Izuna's hands are a little sore from so much shamisen playing; it's in how she flexes her fingers after putting the instrument away.

Kiso is thoroughly tired out from so much play, so he snuggles against Tobirama's side as Izuna makes tea and seems happy to spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled quietly in somebody's arms.

Tobirama takes advantage of this to talk to Izuna about future indoor activities for entertaining small children.

"What kind of things to Uchiha do on rainy days?" He asks as he picks up one of the senbei. "With children, I mean." He can't really remember what he did with his younger brothers on wet days; not indoors anyway. He _does_ remember a lot of going out in the rain. Not that he ever minded; rain is pleasant.

"The normal kind of indoor things, generally," Izuna says, sipping her tea. "Cleaning and mending jobs, cooking, crafts, storytelling, music, writing letters, teaching… and games, of course."

That is rather more than Tobirama had ever contemplated counting as child-appropriate indoor activities.

"Children just want to be included, mostly," Izuna goes on. "So that's what you do; everything's new and exciting when you're small." She smiles at him, taking a senbei. "I'm sure Kiso-kun would be interested in learning to braid; he might _lose_ interest after making a bracelet for himself and come looking for his wooden animals, but you'd have done something together. And he'd probably come back another time to try again, or just to cuddle while you're working."

"He's very quiet boy." Tobirama isn't sure how to say any of the other adjectives that spring to mind, or ask about what the Uchiha do with children who very clearly _aren't_ going to grow up able to contribute to the clan. Kiso-kun is still giving him mixed signals there; if he _is_ mentally lacking he won't be able to become a warrior, but Tobirama already knows the Uchiha have farming and crafts and trade open to them too, and he's not sure what the requirements for those _are_ , to judge whether Kiso will be able to engage in them when grown.

"He knows what he likes," Izuna replies easily. "If he was _very_ energetic I'd be encouraging him to put on coat and sandals and run around the garden for a few hours, then giving him a wash before we did indoor things. It's just a matter of working with what's there." She sighs. "Then again, _I_ only know that from extensive babysitting experience, so."

"You did a lot of babysitting?" Izuna's been on the battlefield since she was _ten_ , when did she have the _time_ for babysitting?

Izuna eyes him over her tea. "I was never _going_ to be a warrior, Tobirama. But then there were assassins in the house, another of my younger brothers was dead and I had sharingan. My father made a choice and I lived with it; but before that I was being trained up to keep house for Madara-nii and learn all the proper womanly skills my station required."

Tobirama stares down into his teacup. If he'd been fighting an _adult_ as a ten-year-old and not Izuna…

He was very good, even at ten. But he's fairly sure he was not _that_ good.

What a terrible irony, to owe his life to Uchiha Tajima deciding to drag his daughter onto the battlefield.


	32. Chapter 32

Having Kiso-kun's futon in his bedroom again is strange, but warm. Tobirama lies down with the toddler when the boy's bedtime arrives only an hour after dinner, then gets up again once Kiso is properly asleep; he has a few hours yet before _he_ needs to sleep, and it's still bright enough outside to do things without needing a lantern.

He does not bother to dress again properly, simply throwing the wool kimono over his silk sleeping yukata and sliding his feet into his house slippers. Izuna is in her study and he can go no further than the doorway, but he _can_ go that far. He has no idea how Izuna can adjust his limits without ever laying hands on the seal, but whatever the means, the boundaries it imposes are absolute.

He slides open the shōji, quietly grateful he _can_ do that much –can _look_ , can _see_ even though he cannot enter– and stands in the doorway, watching his wife kneeling at her desk in the pink wisteria kimono, this time with a creamy pink and white half-width obi with a clever damask pattern of nadeshiko flowers, the pink warp threads outlining the flowers and the pale cream weft serving as both background and fill. Her absent grace in holding back the long sleeves from dangling in the ink as she writes, slender wrist casually exposed, makes part of him wish he _could_ step within, if only to kneel beside the desk and press kisses to the thin, sensitive skin on the inside of her arm.

"Treasure?" She asks, glancing up at him as she dips the brush in the ink again.

"Come to bed, Lord-Wife," Tobirama requests softly, toying idly with the end of his braid where it hangs over his shoulder.

Her chakra flutters, heated and hopeful. "To my bed, Treasure, or to yours?"

"Whichever would please my wife the most."

She smiles, eyes dropping to her work as she puts brush to paper again. "Surely that is for me to say, not you."

A concubine is the one who is supposed to please their spouse. But a wife should please her husband, and a husband should see to it that his that his wife lacks nothing. Tobirama shivers; not because he is cold, but because his wife is wearing away at his determination to hold himself apart with her casual yet heartfelt words and willing submission.

"If it would please my wife to join me in my bed," Tobirama says, voice quiet and deep, "then I would welcome her company, and her trust. But if my wife would prefer to lay me out on her own bed, that would also not be unwelcome." Whichever one she picks, he will still be able to take her in his arms and luxuriate in shared pleasure, then sleep wrapped around her comforting warmth.

Izuna sets her brush aside and looks at him again, peeking through lowered lashes. "And what is it you would do with my trust, Tobirama, were I to place myself in your bed and hands?"

She says his name as though she likes how it tastes, savouring its flavour as she rolls it over her tongue. Yobisute, but intimate rather than casually disrespectful; in this moment he is not 'concubine' or some other pet-name, he is purely himself. And Izuna wants to know what he would do to her, were she to give herself to him.

"I would take you in my arms, Izuna," he tells her, quiet and starkly honest, "and I would take my time caressing your skin with hands and mouth, savouring your desire and anticipation. And then I would sheathe my body within yours, luxuriating in your eagerness and warmth as I coax you gently to your peak, taking the pleasure you give me and returning it to you threefold."

He can feel her desire shuddering in her chakra, can taste it in her scent as she rises to her feet and crosses the room to step across the threshold and into his arms. "As you wish," she murmurs in his ear, and Tobirama is suddenly and ferociously tempted to not bother with the futon at all, but to lay her out right here on the tatami, with her kimono as sheets and his body as a blanket covering her.

"We don't _have_ to go to bed," Izuna adds wickedly as Tobirama pulls her close and rests his forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her eager desire. "The whole house is ours to enjoy as we wish, Treasure. So it is simply a matter of choosing."

"Temptress," Tobirama rasps. He very _much_ wants to lay her out beside the sunken hearth in the central room where they eat breakfast every morning, so something of her body and pleasure will linger in the air there as it did in the tatami room of the Diplomatic Quarters. He wants to make it so that there is not one room in the entire building she can step into without remembering his hands on her skin, the pleasure of his attentions and the aching perfection of their joined bodies moving in time with their matched heartbeats. He does not think she would stop him if he suggested it.

"One day," his terrible, wonderful wife promises darkly, her breath hot against his ear as she plays with the curls at his nape, "I will lay you over the desk in my study and have my way with you until you pass out under me, Treasure."

Tobirama shudders; oh, he can _picture_ that, can imagine that _perfectly_ and _oh_ –

"By the iori," he demands, face buried in her loosened collar so he can _taste_ the desire rising from her skin. "Lay you out on my yukata, firelight on your skin and _nothing else_." He wants to fuck her on his sleeping yukata, so that when he puts it on again he can _luxuriate_ in the scent of her pleasure and her peak. He also wants to see her wearing it, leopard-spotted purple framing her nakedness and enveloping her in _his_ scent. The mere _idea_ heats his blood and he can't help but linger on it, stoking the burn higher.

"Will you strip me naked for your pleasure then, Tobirama?" Her voice is so soft, so _intimate_ , so _tempting_ and he doesn't _want_ to resist her. Not now. Not in this. Not when she clearly _wants_ him to indulge his fantasies, wants him to whisper in her ear of his own desires so she can yield eagerly to them.

" _Yes,_ " he tells her, tugging on her collar so he can dig his teeth into her shoulder. "And then," he adds, dark and determined and suddenly terribly _impatient_ to have her body laid out for his delectation, "I'm going to dress you in my yukata and you're going to pleasure me on your _knees_. Because unless you do that," he croons in her ear, digging his fingers into her flesh through the modest layers of silk, "I'm not going to have the _patience_ to savour you. And I _want_ to take my time. I want to make you _tremble_ , I want to _toy_ with you and _relish_ the way you press yourself against me, _desperate_ for me to take _everything_ from you so long as you get to peak along the way."

She wants that. She _wants_ him to do that, he can tell by how her chakra shivers and the scent of her desire intensifies. He reaches for her obi knot, easily untying the simple musubi and tossing the silk aside before attacking the other fastenings, firmly driving her backwards towards the iori room as he kisses her fiercely.

"Say yes," he presses in between hungry kisses. "Say yes to me, Izuna. I know you want to yield to me; say yes and I will not neglect your pleasure, I promise. You'll fall asleep hot and still tingling and you'll wake the same way, breathless and gasping as you peak. _Say yes_."

Her various belts and sashes removed, Tobirama unties the kimono fastenings and the nagajuban ones as well, pulling the layers apart so he can yank off her hip wrap and press his fingers up between her thighs, sinking them into slick, trembling warmth. Izuna moans into his mouth, rising up on tiptoe and then sinking back down, welcoming the intrusion. Tobirama presses insistently against the tender inner places he knows are most sensitive and is rewarded by his wife clutching at his shoulders, head tipping back and eyelids fluttering as her chakra flexes heatedly.

"Say, _yes,_ " he croons in her ear, twisting his fingers inside her and relishing how she gasps. His wool kimono has vanished somewhere on the way here and he could not care less.

"Ye-es," she whispers, forehead lolling forwards to rest against his. Tobirama moves his fingers again, rubbing insistently against those sensitive spots.

"Louder," he demands darkly as she whimpers, her breath hot across his face.

" _Yes_ , husband, yes!"

Tobirama _moans_ , taken completely off-guard by her words, hands clutching at her both over the back of her neck and inside her sheath as he shudders; Izuna makes a breathless but _very_ pleased sound as she kisses his mouth again, shrugging out of her kimono and tossing them carelessly against the fusuma. Then she starts tugging his sleeping yukata off; Tobirama lets go of her neck so he can slip out of that sleeve, then realises he's going to have to stop fondling those _gloriously_ sensitive inner places if he wants her to get the other sleeve off.

Izuna evidently realises it at the same moment, because she stops kissing him, leans back into full visibility and pouts. Tobirama chuckles, leaning in to kiss her as between her thighs his fingers work in a vigorous counterpoint to his tongue, ensuring she is wet, breathless and weak-kneed –but not yet quite approaching her peak– when he pulls away, shrugging out of the sleeping yukata and holding it out to her with his free hand as he meticulously licks his fingers clean of her arousal.

Izuna takes the silk, eyes hot and movements languid as she shrugs into the leopard-dappled purple and ties the inner panel in place, then sinks gracefully to her knees. Her left hand reaches up to play teasingly over his lower back and buttocks, her fingers caressing his skin, but her right slides between the folds of his yukata, reaching underneath her body between her thighs as she leans her face against his hip.

She licks her lips, eyes meeting his, then shivers in a way that he _knows_ –he can _smell_ her pleasure– she is _touching herself_ –

–and then her mouth and tongue on his arousal steal what shreds were left of his ability to think coherently, leaving only sensation and the desperate need for _more_.

* * *

When Kiso wakes for breakfast Tobirama is awake and decorously dressed in his willow kimono with the murasaki purple shibori obi, wearing the dōnuki layer with the blood-red collar between the outer layer and a pink silk nagajuban for warmth. He has already run through his morning exercise routine and had a stand-up wash before dressing, so as not to stain his clothing with the evidence of his keeping his promises to Izuna; she slipped back into sleep as he was bathing, worn out by his attentions both this morning and upon waking in the middle of the night.

Her face is still flushed, even in her sleep, and she's still wrapped in his silk sleeping yukata. Wearing it tonight is going to be _torture_ , the scent of her body and pleasure enveloping him completely; he can hardly wait.

The clothing left scattered around the main room is gone; peeking into his wife's room reveals them all hanging over her screen, his own wool kimono included. The undergarments are _not_ there, but he finds them all neatly folded in the laundry basket.

Naka-Dragon eyes him knowingly when he tells her Izuna isn't coming to breakfast, but she does not comment; given he's mostly sure she was the one to tidy up the clothing, he supposes he's earned that. Kiso is of course blissfully oblivious, accepting Tobirama's excuse that Izuna 'stayed up late' for her needing to sleep in this morning and whispering loudly over the meal rather than talking normally. It's completely adorable and Tobirama goes along with it, helping the toddler by retrieving his basket of clothing from the bedroom so he can dress by the iori.

Then, when Kiso has been handed over to Midori-chan for the morning, Tobirama takes two large servings of katemeshi and three fish –Naka-Dragon made two servings for his wife and an extra fish for him– on a tray into his bedroom and sets about waking his wife for the meal.

No, he does not _need_ to untie the silk yukata ties, slide under the sheets and lick and suck the tender pearl at the apex of her thighs until her chakra sharpens into wakefulness, then keep going until she peaks gasping his name, but he _enjoys_ doing it. She's on his futon; he has her permission.

He also enjoys moving the blankets aside so he can sit up between her splayed legs and admire his handiwork, the flush under her skin and the tremor in her muscles, as well as the rosy hardness of her nipples and the hazy darkness of her eyes. It's the third time since tucking her up in his bed yesterday evening that he has woken her with pleasure and the sun is now high enough in the sky for him to properly admire the fruits of his achievement.

"I brought you breakfast, Lord-Wife," he tells her, breathing deeply to imprint the thick, layered scent of her repeated sexual peaks into his memory. If this doesn't thoroughly break in his new futon, nothing will.

"Will I be allowed time to dress, or will I be eating as I am?" She asks, voice slightly husky.

Tobirama lets his eyes linger on taut skin softening hard muscle, the slight indent of her waist, jutting bones of her hips and the powerful lines of her thighs. "The food would get cold if you washed and dressed," he says.

Izuna levers herself up into a cross-legged sitting position, the silk framing everything and hiding nothing. "I shall reframe the question," she says archly: "would my treasure enjoy watching me eat, wearing only his sleeping yukata and displaying my nakedness for his eyes?"

Tobirama can't _breathe_.

His wife raises a teasing eyebrow. "I _am_ still in your bed," she reminds him. "For _your_ pleasure, Tobirama."

He finds his voice as he reaches for the food. "Eat," he says hoarsely, "and when you've finished I'm going to bathe with you."

That arch eyebrow twitches suggestively at him. " _Just_ bathe, Treasure?"

Tobirama glares. "I am going to fuck you under the showers until you stop whimpering and start wincing," he says flatly, "and then spend whatever's left of the morning kissing you in the hot pool." She probably won't be in the mood for sex for a day or so after that, but it will be _worth it_ and he will have his thoroughly scented silk yukata to supply him with good dreams in the meantime.

Izuna's eyes are _heated_. "My husband wishes me to be _sore_ ," she notes, accepting the katemeshi and chopsticks.

"I want you to spend a day or two unable to sit modestly," Tobirama agrees, voice perfectly level as he picks up the extra fish, "and unsure whether the persistent sensation from your sheath is pleasure or pain." She called him 'husband' again; he is no longer sure whether it's a slip of the tongue or entirely deliberate.

Izuna smirks at him over the edge of her bowl. "Would you like a Tea Ceremony after lunch?"

Tobirama chokes on his fish. She would, she _wants_ to, knowing he–!

"That would not at _all_ be in the spirit of the tea," he manages after swallowing.

"Regular tea then?" His _dreadful_ wife suggests, eyes dancing; she must have an idea that she thinks he will like. "We could perhaps invite somebody over? Someone with small children, so that Kiso could play with them in the garden while we talk?"

The thought of inviting someone over is suddenly very appealing; yes, for the break from having to constantly entertain a toddler when he is already struggling with so many other things, but _mostly_ because the idea of Izuna being properly and modestly dressed, serving tea and food as she entertains guests, when he _knows_ she will be both persistently languid and _exquisitely_ tender from letting him spend most of the morning _ruthlessly_ taking pleasure in her body is…

It's a very different kind of besmirching than having her walking around with his lip-paint smeared in very private places, but he still _likes_ it. Likes it _very much_.

"You'd wear the pink wisteria kimono for the guests?" He asks, aware of his voice having gone deep again and not caring she can read his lust right off his face.

"You like that one?"

"It's maidenly and girlish," Tobirama says, struggling for the words to describe the specific appeal of seeing her dressed like she might almost not be married at all and _knowing_ that under those pristine virtuous layers she is _intimately_ sore from letting him wring every single drop of pleasure from her body that could be taken. That he wants to see her in flirty sleeves and pretty florals when she's spent the morning with her thighs wrapped around his hips, moaning encouragement as he drives himself into her, lubricated as much by his seed as by her own arousal.

Izuna grins naughtily. "My husband wishes to see me wrapped in innocence when he _knows_ I have been thoroughly and eagerly deflowered," she says teasingly, "and present a façade of chastity immediately after an entire _morning_ spent moaning his name, while my flesh is still _aching_ from his attentions." She smile widens, creasing Amaterasu's necklace above one eye and under the other. "I have more maidenly and youthful kimono."

"I'd like to see you in one," Tobirama says honestly, "but _why_ do you keep calling me 'husband'?" It _cannot_ be a slip of the tongue, not so many times in so few moments.

Izuna's fingers slacken around her chopsticks, almost dropping them into her bowl. He has _never_ seen her so purely and utterly at a loss and it's… it's not actually comfortable at _all_. There's a hint of confused panic in her abruptly roiling chakra and he doesn't like it.

"You don't have to tell me _now_ ," he adds quickly, "but please think about it and maybe tell me later? Tomorrow or even the day after? However long it takes for you to get the words right." Izuna's been very patient with him; he can at least return the courtesy.

His wife takes a careful breath and grips her chopsticks again, her chakra forcibly calming. "Thank you, Treasure," she says, tone flat and distant, "I will consider my thoughts and try to put words to them." Her tone softens. "It's not a taunt or anything like that, I promise. I just, I," she twitches, visibly unable to find the right words and unhappy about it, then firmly turns her attention to devouring her meal.

"Later," Tobirama insists, tone soft. "I can wait. And I hope I haven't put you off my choice of morning activities." If he has though, he can live with it. He didn't mean to strike a nerve.

Izuna finishes the first bowl and hands it back to him; he gives her the next one. "Oh no, Treasure," she says wryly; "after _that_ I am all the more eager to let you have your way with me; maybe it will knock some of my thoughts loose so I can better articulate them."

"Then in the interests of the scientific method I will do my very best," Tobirama teases her; it is a relief to know that he hasn't accidentally committed a catastrophic misstep.

"Well, repetition is key for science," Izuna teases back, lifting his heart as her chakra settles further. "I'm sure it will take a while for us to prove the matter one way or the other."

"I am _entirely_ at your service in this, Izuna."

"You're only saying that because you want to fuck me raw while enjoying endless hot water."

"Not _only,_ " Tobirama objects, "but it is a major factor, yes." Izuna mentioned the other day that the shower water gets filtered, cleaned and recycled somehow, so it _is_ genuinely endless. How can he _not_ take advantage of that?

* * *

"So," Tobirama asks after a long, pleasant silence in the hot pool with Izuna sat across his thighs, her head resting against the side of his and both of them too comfortably tired to do anything except bask, " _why_ endless hot water?"

"Think 'why' is obvious, Treasure," Izuna mumbles.

"Yes," Tobirama concedes, because she's right about that, "but what _started_ the project?"

"Hn." Her hand settles over his on her thigh under the water, idly caressing the backs of his fingers. "Wanted to come home to easy hot water after a shit mission or a hard battle; entire clan _loves_ it."

" _All_ your clan's baths are like this?"

Izuna shrugs a shoulder. "Scales up well. Converted a few barns to shared bathhouses; Lineage Residences and the Clan Hall have private, everybody else shares. Stuck an extra, smaller one next to the Outguard Hall, so warriors can scrub down away from kids if they're feeling twitchy."

"What are the general mechanics for 'endless clean water'?" Even without the heating it is a _remarkable_ achievement. Especially since the implication, given the age of the building, is that Izuna managed this as a _teenager_. Not so very long ago though, given that it takes time to built and test water systems and convert buildings; Tobirama would put money on no more than five years.

"Circular system," Izuna says, lifting her free hand out of the water to gesture vaguely, "but with output and input. Output to filter out impurities –which takes water, so they flow– and input to top up the system. Main tank on the roof; co-opt gravity. Feeder tank rain-fed, underground with a sand filter and a pump; if header tank water level drops below full, pump handle works to let you top up. If header tank water levels drop down to a set level, no function; got to keep the system full or it goes weird. Generally good to prime the pump once a week to avoid that, but 'specially after particularly long bath sessions or on rainy days."

Both of those are self-evident: a long bathing session will lose water to cleaning; and on a rainy day the lower tank can fill completely, so best to ensure the header tank is full first, for maximum efficiency.

"And both filtration and heating works on chakra?"

"Sunshine," Izuna corrects him. "Can boost with chakra, but fuuinjutsu converts sunshine to energy, both for heating and for powering the seal; like Diplomatic Quarters heating."

Now she has said that Tobirama recalls that discussion. "Oh yes, I remember. Why not heat the house that way as well?"

Izuna huffs. "Fire Natured; only cold in _winter_ , and less sunshine then anyway." She sighs. "Nowhere else is heated; teaches bad habits." She sounds like she's quoting somebody; probably her father. Tobirama takes this to mean he is regrettably unlikely to get under-floor heating in his new home without applying a serious long-term campaign to bring his wife around to his perspective.

He'll think about starting one if he's still got no basic chakra access as summer fades. Being unable to inure himself to the cold with chakra –and being Water Natured– will hopefully prove convincing, at least in getting her to heat his private spaces.

The fact that it's a choice between indoor heating and swathing him in layers of kimono is probably best _not_ being mentioned however, as he suspects his wife would jump at the chance to bury him in clothing he genuinely _needs_.

* * *

It is very pleasantly warm as they dress for lunch, but Tobirama deliberately puts the dōnuki layer back on between nagajuban and outer kimono; it may be comfortable to go without at present, but spring weather can change swiftly and it will be cooler by evening anyway. If he does not add that extra layer _now_ he will have to stop whatever he is doing _then_ to change his clothing.

Izuna's outfit is, as promised, _very_ much for a young bride or even a bride-to-be: the kimono is a soft dianthus pink, daintily printed with sumac red corals and waving sea moss, along with dark green seaweed and vibrant little cyan seashells; its hanging sleeves are only _just_ short enough to be appropriate for a married lady. The associated obi is rich scarlet, embroidered with tiny white dragonflies circling large flower-pattered suzu bells outlined in metallic silver on the drum bow section. There are also smaller silver bells, flowers and dragonflies spread across the front section, and the overall effect is very feminine and sweetly cheerful.

The outfit looks very pretty, but the contrast with the dark tattoo framing her eyes, the lax cast of her face and the languidly post-coital hum of her chakra is what really appeals in how Izuna looks right now. The winsome sweetness is a lie and that is _why_ he likes it; it makes the fact that his wife is a fox wearing chicken feathers impossible to overlook.

"My wife looks very fine," he tells her, lifting his hand so the backs of his fingers can caress the sharp line of her cheekbone. "But how did she come by this kimono?" It is not at _all_ the kind of thing he can see her buying for herself, or indeed anybody _else_ buying for her.

Izuna's chakra takes on a faintly melancholy note. "It was my mother's," she says wistfully. "She liked pink, did Kaa-san. I never saw her wearing this one, but Ohabari-oba said she got it before she married and then shortened the sleeves as little as she could get away with. She stopped wearing it when she was pregnant with me, apparently; two years married with a son and another baby on the way was apparently the limit for dressing as a young bride."

Tobirama knows Izuna's mother has been dead for some time; it's only the second time his wife has mentioned the woman. However these old losses don't really go _away_. "Was the lotus-pattern pink wisteria kimono also hers?"

"Hn. And the sparrow-print house kimono; she wore that one a _lot_."

"I'm glad you have something of hers to keep." His mother's everyday kimono ended up with Tanka-ba, who does wear it when she's out of armour. The only thing that she wore that he managed to actually _keep hold of_ was her leopard netsuke, and who knows where that's gone now. She was buried in her Hatake haori and he's glad he managed to argue for that much; it's not like anybody else could have worn it and it would have _hurt_ to see it cut down for scraps and patches or turned into a blanket.

"Thank you, Treasure." She leans in to kiss him, light and fleeting.

"So who have you summoned to visit us?" Tobirama asks as they settle on the engawa to wait for Kiso's return. He's a little later today; presumably Midori-chan is dropping the other children in her care off first.

"I have _invited_ ," Izuna says mock-reproachfully, shifting her knees into a slightly more slovenly posture that gives Tobirama a smug, self-satisfied thrill, "Inamura of Inari and his wife Izumi of Konjin, who have a son Fushimi about Kiso's age and are expecting another child in a few months' time. Inamura's father you have met already, Miune the Inari Head of Line."

So an age-mate and future Head of Lineage, likely someone Izuna grew up with and considers more or less a friend. Not quite an equal –Uchiha social precedence being what it is, Izuna doesn't actually _have_ any of those as 'Manifest Amaterasu Lineage Head,' so far as he can tell– but certainly considered such on all but formal occasions.

"How is Inamura-san related to Yori-san?" He asks.

"They are cousins; Yori-san is Miune-san's niece through his third elder sister, Naka-Whiskers."

" _Whiskers?_ "

His wife grins at him. "So many Naka in the clan, Tobirama; we have to distinguish them _somehow_ and there's only a limited number of _dignified_ nicknames to go around."

Tobirama decides not to fall down that well just yet. "So you will be hosting Miune-san's son and daughter-in-law, and their small child."

" _We_ will be hosting, Treasure," Izuna corrects him mildly. "We will probably talk about art, as Izumi is a fellow enthusiast, and about interrogation, because Inamura specialises in such. Also likely about the doings of the local nobility and various merchants, because the Inari keep an eye on such things."

"For themselves, or for your father?" Tobirama knows enough about the Uchiha hierarchy now to know there is a _significant_ difference. He is likely ignorant of many of the specifics as yet, but he has teased out enough from the legal code to be certain that there _is_ a difference and it _does_ matter.

"For the entire clan," Izuna replies. "My Lord-Father interprets the data for the Outguard, but the trading branch makes just as much use of it, and to no small profit. I have distant cousins through my mother in the Inari, from the many bonds between their lineage and those who have dedicated themselves to the battlefield of logistics and supply." She smiles. "And, of course, for themselves; the Inari do very well out of their information network, passing on news from far-flung places then reaping gratitude and willing repayment in return."

Tobirama suspects he knows why these _particular_ kinsmen now. "You intend to ask about civilian rumours."

" _News_ , not just rumours," Izuna corrects him mildly. "I am sure that the current moratorium on the feud has been noticed many times over, and no doubt both my father's letter to the daimyo and the daimyo's reply have been much speculated over. So finding out what is being said –and indeed, what is _not_ being said– is very important."

"I shall look forward to –ah, there's Kiso-kun." Tobirama waves to Midori-chan standing in the gateway as the toddler hurtles up the path, the strings attached to the back of his shirt flying behind him.

"To lunch then," his wife agrees, rising cautiously to her feet. Tobirama offers her a steadying hand; yes, he feels _very_ smug over that lingering soreness, but at the same time he doesn't want Izuna to be in pain. An interesting dichotomy he will have to think about more later.

* * *

Uchiha Izumi is not what one might call a paragon of loveliness; her nose is long and slightly hooked, her eyebrows are sharp and her jawline is long yet rounded, making an unfortunate contrast to her not particularly high forehead. Her hair is also so smooth as to be almost lank, but her eyes are pure black and terribly sharp; she instantly takes in Izuna's outfit, glances at Tobirama, then back to Izuna and grins. The expression transforms her face, wide and dazzling and full of mischievous joy; what her rather more classically handsome husband sees in her is abruptly very apparent.

"Izuna-bi! Looks like marriage is agreeing with you," Izumi says, stepping forward and wrapping Izuna in a fierce hug, uncaring of what her exuberance might do to the acorn-brown and bush-marigold-yellow checked kimono straining over the prominent curve of her abdomen. "Though you shouldn't let your husband dress you _all_ the time; you always look happier in orange."

"And green," Inamura adds, stepping forwards to also hug Izuna, equally careless of his own dayflower blue splash-patterned kimono. "You have a good eye for greens, Izuna-bi."

"And of course the purples, which goes without saying really," Izumi continues, turning to Tobirama and smirking knowingly. "Now introduce me to your _lovely_ concubine whom I've heard so much about."

Izuna sighs, turning; Inamura casually rests his fist on her shoulder and props his chin on it. "Inamura, Izumi, my spouse Tobirama of Amaterasu. Tobirama-san, Inamura of Inari, Heir to his line, and his wife Izumi of Konjin."

"An me!" Pipes up the small boy wearing the pale green of new straw printed with peaches and dappled koi, peeking out around Izuna from where he's clinging to his father's other hand.

"Tobirama-san, Fushimi of Inari. Fushimi-kun, my spouse Tobirama of Amaterasu."

Fushimi-kun bows, swaying; Tobirama bows back. "Kiso-kun is in the garden with Shizuki-hyō," he tells the toddler. The little boy instantly turns pleading eyes on his mother, who laughs softly and makes a shooing gesture.

Seconds later there is no toddler in the genkan at all, and their adult guests are putting on slippers and stepping indoors. Tobirama tries to steady his resolve, reminding himself that Izuna was _fully_ complicit in wearing the pretty pink kimono, and she likely knew her guests would catch on at once to what was going on between them under the surface. She hasn't flinched, so neither will he; he has nothing to be ashamed of. He likes what he likes and Izuna is not uncomfortable with it.

Though Izumi's passing comment of not seeing Izuna in a pink kimono since she was a pre-teen is very much noted; he will have to investigate his wife's wardrobe for himself and ask her some more direct questions about her preferred dress. He knows she likes purple, green and yellow, but he has not seen her wear _any_ orange as yet.

They end up in the room that sticks out the front of the house past the genkan, adjacent to Izuna's study; Tobirama had thought it was _part_ of the study, so hasn't actually attempted to even look inside. It turns out to be Izuna's music room, bright and airy with shōji making up three and a half sides and a small altar set in front of the only actual wall.

There is no statue on the altar, or even a painting hanging on the wall behind it; nothing but a ceramic stand for incense sticks. Tobirama resolves to ask about that later as Izuna gets out several floor cushions from a long tansu and sets them out for the best view of the garden through the open shōji. Kiso and Fushimi are currently fleeing Shizuki's ferocious amble, squealing delightedly as they hurtle unsteadily around various bushes and stumble through flowerbeds.

Izuna also picks up a low table that was standing _on_ the tansu and places it between the cushions for Tobirama to put the tea-tray on, then sets about pouring the tea as he settles on the last remaining cushion. "So how have you been, Izumi-chan?"

"Less of the 'chan,' Izuna; I'm two years older than you!" the other woman complains, one hand cradling her pregnant belly. "But not too bad, considering; still rather wishing this was another spring baby like Fushimi was, rather than an autumn one. I'm not looking forward to spending the summer like this, I can tell you." She sighs. "But it's been nice not having to dodge active battlefields when going shopping, I'll give you that much."

"Also very nice not to get ambushed when returning from missions," Inamura agrees mildly, taking a senbei.

That's definitely directed at him; Tobirama pointedly ignores it.

"Inamura." Izuna _looks_ at the other man, who squirms.

"My apologies, Tobirama-san."

Tobirama shakes his head. "It's nothing." If not for Izuna he'd still be ambushing Uchiha Squads on his father's orders, oblivious to how his commitment and loyalty was taken as his father's due with nothing granted in return.

"So, what is being talked about in the markets and the streets?" Izuna asks. "I'd ask about the tea houses, but..." she trails off, grinning.

Both guests chuckle. "You _always_ know what's going on in the tea houses, Izuna-bi," Izumi teases, "but in the markets? Lots of speculation on why the Senju and the Uchiha seem to be avoiding each-other this year. Lots of gratitude too; fewer fights mean fewer fields ruined by smoke or suddenly vigorous weeds, as well as fewer flash-floods and localised earthquakes. Also fewer carts and market stalls smashed in passing, fewer barns burnt down, fewer roads blocked and fewer livelihoods destroyed."

Tobirama has never really thought about how the feud impacts the civilian population. Evidently he _should have_ ; past flash-floods were very likely _his_ doing.

"There've been no late frosts and the rains have been fairly kind so far, so there's not much in the way of ruined crops in Fire as yet; a few localised infestations but the landowners caught them early and hired Aburame. There might _possibly_ be some issues with a few dyestuffs by late summer, but that's in Akimichi territory and we don't hear much from there. Either way, a good enough year to keep banditry low, in Fire Country at least."

Izuna sighs. "That is always good to hear," she says softly. "It may pay well, but I must admit I have little taste for slaughtering the desperate and destitute."

"Sometimes they are the lazy and violent, Izuna-bi," Inamura says cynically.

"And yet there is no shortage of either of those among the wealthy, and they do well enough," Izuna retorts. "We are not hired to slaughter them like beasts because they are _evil_ , Inamura; we are hired because rich men feel they are losing money."

"Truly the most rigorously punished crime any person can commit," Izumi murmurs over her tea. Tobirama has to agree there; cynical perhaps, but accurate.

"Can we not speak of systemic injustice over tea, please?" Inamura requests meekly.

"What kinds of whispers are seeping out of the capital then?" Izuna asks obligingly, taking more senbei.

Inamura's chakra betrays how very relieved he is by the change of subject. "A good number of rumours of who the lucky woman is that Uchiha Izuna has taken as a concubine, to grace the bed of so _gracious_ and _giving_ a young man," he says lightly; Izumi snorts. "More select are the murmurs of a marriage between the Uchiha and the Senju, Butsuma's infamous pale-haired younger son to Tajima-sama's little-known daughter. Those people speak of perhaps the feud ending for good, or being already over and the peace sealed with a marriage contract, but that is mere speculation."

Such terribly logical speculation though; if Tobirama had heard of a wedding between two warring clans, he too would assume it was to seal a treaty. Especially if it was the man being welcomed into the woman's clan rather than the other way around. Izuna thoroughly stealing the march on public opinion; so many battlefields he did not realise the clan should be fighting on, and forfeited victory by failing to show up at all.

"You are known to the Daimyo's Court as your father's daughter?" Is what he asks. Izuna smiles.

"I _did_ say I was presented at Court aged twelve, Treasure; that was in jūnihitoe, as my status as Amaterasu Head demanded. Before I got either my oh-so-distinctive tattoo or my charming reputation; the Court has never met Izuna the young man, though they may well assume they simply forgot doing so, but the Fire Daimyo _has_ met Izuna the Heiress."

"And a more adorable set of miniature jūnihitoe you will never see," Izumi adds teasingly. "Pretty preteen princess Izuna in all her winter finery!"

"And absolutely unrecognisable out of it," Inamura adds, smirking. His chakra winces slightly though; evidently there's uncomfortable subtext relating to that visit.

"So the Fire Court believes Madara has _three_ younger siblings still living, not just two," Tobirama realises. "Won't that be awkward?"

Izuna shrugs. "A married Heiress has no reason to attend Court when she has brothers to do so on her behalf," she says blandly, "and sadly Izuna-hime has married _far_ below her station; were she to show her face again at any time in the near future no doubt the various ladies would be rather snide. Mostly out of jealousy, as I have retained all my prior freedoms, gained further ones and wield my personal authority rather than depending on my husband's, but still better to wait until I have to present her brother's heirs at court, once the gossip has quieted significantly." She sighs. "And wear heavy makeup while doing so."

Wait, Tobirama's missed something. "Your father's letter did _not_ specify I am your concubine?"

Izuna winces theatrically as the other two Uchiha are abruptly entranced by the contents of their teacups. "Treasure, the Uchiha are the _only_ people on the continent who practice male concubinage. It's _not_ something we talk about very much outside the clan; can you _imagine_ what it would be like for you to show up at a social gathering, as a warrior and a man, and be known as a woman's completely dependent and subordinate spouse? How could I put you in a position where your peers will mock and shun you? Women are not _allowed_ to do that to men, socially speaking, even though men very much _are_ allowed to do it to women. So my father's letter listed you simply as spouse, and your dramatically lower rank makes it clear we are _not_ social equals, so you have taken my name, joined my clan and I hold the financial and political authority."

Tobirama drops his eyes to his own tea, thinking furiously. He knows Izuna has been publically effusive about her 'grey eyed concubine,' but she has done that exclusively in her male persona and has _actively_ promoted the perception of said concubine being a woman. Conversely, the unequal nature of his marriage has been _actively obfuscated_ to the Fire Daimyo, and therefore to his own kin. Yes, Tōka _will_ have used the word 'concubine,' but that _won't_ have been in the letter.

That _does_ add a bit of clarity to his father's choice to attempt assassination, but again he was _abducted from the battlefield_. Where in that is _any_ indication that his consent was _not_ coerced? Never mind his cousin's willing witness to his confinement a day or so after the letter arrived.

It also adds another layer to Izuna's repeated slips in naming him as 'husband'. But he will reserve judgement in that until she gives him her answers; it would not do to leap before looking, not in something so personal that her glib words abandon her entirely when she attempts to explain herself.

"So to the wider world Uchiha Tajima's sheltered daughter now has a Senju warrior as a trophy husband," he jokes tentatively.

"Indeed, the relationship speculation is _very_ steamy there," Izumi agrees cheerfully, "but I doubt it's _that_ far from reality." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Izuna snorts, setting her teacup down as she dramatically hides her entire face behind her hanging sleeve; their guests laugh. Tobirama also smirks, not hiding his satisfaction at all; yes, he had an _excellent_ morning, thank you.

He can think about the implications of this little revelation some other time.


	33. Chapter 33

The toddlers do not run around for very long; less than an hour later Tobirama has Kiso flopped across his lap and Fushimi-kun is snuggled against his mother's side, cheek pressed against her fern-green obi printed with orange lantern-fruits, the skeletal cages embellished with cream embroidery to add a more random element to the design. Izumi absently places a hand on her son's back, fingers toying with the leading strings stitched firmly to his shirt.

Senju do not use such things, but having chased after Kiso on various occasions now, Tobirama can see the appeal of keeping your toddler on a leash.

With little ears present, the conversation has shifted away from the salacious rumours and speculation attached to both the spreading news of Uchiha Izuna's new concubine and Senju Tobirama's marriage to the Uchiha Heiress. Now Izuna and Inamura are debating the value of food in enhancing an interrogation –and which foods and settings work best in which circumstances– and Izumi is trying to keep Tobirama engaged in a discussion on traditional Uchiha clothing patterns and colours.

It's working, for all that he's also trying to keep track of Izuna's discussion; soft interrogation is not something the Senju teach, despite it evidently being very effective and something to keep in mind for Tōma's sake. His young cousin doesn't know much that is truly sensitive, but he can still give away far more than he realises. Tobirama _does_ also want to know more about Uchiha dress traditions however, all the better to interpret his wife's clothing choices and more fully understand what is going on around him in the wider clan grounds.

"So Uchiha _don't_ put helmets and armour on boys' festival kimono?" It's a common enough tradition among the rest of the nobility and even among civilians, so Tobirama is surprised to find that the Uchiha do otherwise.

"Not at all; it's unlucky. Festivals are for celebrating life, not glorifying conflict and death," Izumi says earnestly. "Which is also why all our children's festival kimono and everyday clothing share the same bright patterns: so that our sons cannot be picked out early and targeted."

"Do frolicking skeletons count as a 'bright pattern'?" Tobirama can't resist asking. Because that's not something he'd _ever_ seen on anybody before Oshiki threw temari at the shōji to get his attention.

"The various lineages have different traditional patterns outside the standard ones," Izumi explains; "bones and skeletons are a traditional Yomotsu-shikome pattern, like crows are a traditional Yatagarasu pattern and foxes an Inari one. There's a bit of overlap –children's clothing gets passed around a lot– but on adults, those tend to be indicative of lineage, either by birth or by marriage. A child may also honour a parent's lineage with a kimono pattern that combines said parent's lineage with other elements; Tajima-sama occasionally wears crows to honour his mother."

"So you might wear foxes, but Izuna-san would not." Despite his wife being very much the fox in chicken feathers at the moment.

"Exactly; Izuna-bi is more likely to wear phoenixes and chrysanthemums."

"Classic Amaterasu pattern?" Tobirama checks. It's a very standard design actually, but in-clan it may well be less so. It fits Madara's armour pattern for phoenixes to be considered classically Amaterasu, and he has actually _seen_ Izuna wearing a fine visiting kimono with a phoenix and chrysanthemum pattern.

"Traditional," Izumi concedes, "but not quite _classic_ , I think. Storm-clouds over high waves are actually more _usual_ , as are nocturnal moonlit scenes and more abstract patterns. Some subdued foliage too, but the Amaterasu lineage tend to be _sombre_ as adults, even when dressing for festivals." Her lips twitch. "Izuna-bi is very much the exception there."

Tobirama likes all his kimono very much, and knows that the pale tea wool kimono, deep green seigaha wave-print, the shrimp-print, the willow kimono he is currently wearing and the triangle print red and yellow are _all_ suitably informal for both everyday wear in the house and casual wandering around the Uchiha compound. The fish kimono is edging into visiting wear, and his other two embroidered kimono are most definitely that; the sumac brown pine damask is also semi-formal for all its apparent simplicity, hence it being perfect for Tea Ceremonies. However the thought of wearing something that honours his wife's Lineage is… very tempting.

Or even just something that honours the Uchiha generally; his wife very much likes dressing him, but buying something himself to wear specifically _for_ her could be very fun indeed.

Well, he has all of two sleeping yukata, one of which is _silk_ , and no regular bathing yukata of his own at all; surely nobody can complain if he rectifies this unfortunate gap in his wardrobe for himself?

"How do I go about acquiring a yukata for myself?" He asks Izumi, voice quiet and checking that Izuna isn't listening or looking his way; no, she's engrossed in her not-quite-argument with Inamura. Something about appropriate application of alcohol?

Izumi smirks at him. "Wanting to surprise your wife? Oh, I'll happily enable you; Izuna-bi needs to be surprised more often."

"You're not the first person to tell me that." And Azumaya-ba had been true to her word, visiting briefly one morning while he was still in the Diplomatic Quarters –before the assassination attempt, the day Izuna moved the seal boundary out to the fence– to coach him gently through applying his own makeup. It wasn't easy at all, but he has a large wall-mounted mirror over a washstand now, so practicing is easier and it doesn't add many minutes to his morning routine, so long as he experiments _before_ washing his face.

"Hn." The smirk widens to a grin. "If you ask your wife, she can arrange an allowance for you out of her Lineage Head stipend; you'll only be able to buy things _from_ clansmen, but I'm sure various bored young warriors would be amenable to making a run to Kōgei-gai for you, if there's anything specific you'd like to commission that the clan doesn't make. You wouldn't be the first to delegate, and striking up a correspondence with a civilian craftsperson is hardly subversive."

Tobirama's sure he could _make_ it subversive, but that would inevitably lead to a loss of privilege and he's disinclined to risk it. Not when Tajima would be all too pleased by an opportunity to paint his actions as 'a danger to the clan' and pressure Izuna into locking him away again.

"But in the meantime I'll happily act as your agent; someone from stores might stop by later to check you really _did_ ask for it, so it can be taken off Izuna-bi's account, but that's not going to be relevant until you actually _pick_ something."

"So the clan keeps fabric and clothing in storage, rather than simply commissioning or purchasing new each time they need something they do not make?" The only material the Senju keep in stock is spare bolts of the standard fabrics used for their clan kimono, haori and hakama, and even then it tends to only be enough for one or two new outfits at a time plus husbanded offcuts for discreet mends. Their under-armour is bought made up, being a stretchy and armoured laboratory-made fabric, and is costly enough that buying personal spares is at a warrior's discretion.

Tobirama's own spares will have been eagerly seized by similarly-sized kin. Hopefully Tōka has wrestled hers back from whoever made off with them, but no doubt there are things she has been unable to recover.

Izumi shakes her head at him, setting her empty teacup down. "Oh Tobirama-san, we get through so _much_ indigo cotton, you have no idea; plain _and_ printed. We may make our own linen, but we're noble; we don't generally _wear_ linen as an outer garment except at the height of summer. And when _everybody_ wants something different printed on their yukata, it's less time-consuming to buy bolts printed in a mill than expect a clansman to carve a printing block specially or painstakingly cut a stencil that will only be good for one garment."

"That makes sense," Tobirama agrees, picking up the pot and pouring Izumi the last of this round of tea. "So what patterns does the clan currently have in stock?"

Izumi shifts on the floor cushion, resettling herself. "Well," she begins comfortably, "there're the usual standbys of vertical stripes, waves and hemp-leaf hexagons, as well as classics like water irises or bamboo print, but I'm getting the impression you'd like something a bit more _interesting_ than that?"

The yukata hanging in the anteroom of the bathhouse are well-worn and slightly faded, one striped, one wave-patterned, one bamboo-print and one with butterflies; he suspects the last to be one of Izuna's personal ones, rather than simply a spare to ensure anybody using the baths can do so without having to detour for something to wear afterwards.

"Any fan-prints?" He asks quietly as Izuna leaves the room to fetch water for another round of tea.

Izumi instantly lifts a hand to hide her mouth behind a sleeve, which is somehow vastly more teasing than just smirking at him. "Oh _my_ , Tobirama-san. I'm sure there _is_ something; quite a few clansmen enjoy fan puns. So there might even be a choice. Anything specific?"

"I'd prefer monochrome." Yukata fabric in multiple colours is more feminine, and though he _would_ wear such a thing if Izuna gave it to him –he can admit that much– he won't pick it for himself. "A simple pattern if possible; I'd like rigid fans, but if a folding fan pattern is less complex I'd prefer that."

"So a plain indigo print with fans, preferably rigid fans but if a folding fan pattern is simpler you'd pick the folding fans." Izumi nods firmly in the face of his agreement. "Very good; I'll see about having something made up, as I know there's at least one seamstress in-clan with your measurements." She lowers her sleeve to smile more plainly. "But do have a talk with Izuna-bi about setting up a stipend for you; it'll give you something to do and a way to get to know the rest of the clan."

"Investing in local crafts?" Tobirama asks archly as Izuna returns.

"And commissioning others to investigate them on your behalf," Izumi agrees placidly. "It's always good to explore the options available to you before committing to a course of action, if you can."

"Words to live by," Inamura murmurs as Izuna sets about heating the water; Tobirama doesn't _think_ that's aimed at him though, given that the other man is side-eyeing Izuna with an arch smile and a rueful twist in his chakra.

"What are you accusing me of rushing into this time, Inamura?"

"Nothing much," Inamura says lightly; "just your marriage."

Izuna rolls her eyes. "You _really_ think I didn't explore my options beforehand, just because you didn't see me doing it?"

"Touché." The Inari Heir smirks. "Although I know _certain_ kinsmen lost money betting you were going to settle down with a sworn-sister, not a spouse, leaving poor Saburō responsible for supplying heirs to you and Madara-san both."

"I don't think anybody who _knew_ me betted on that, Inamura."

The man laughs. "No, none of them; indication enough of your preferences!"

"I don't have preferences," Izuna says blandly, "and I know my duty to the clan."

"Duty yes," Izumi cuts in, "but _no_ preferences, Izuna-bi? A little more honesty among friends, if you please."

Izuna sighs. "Better to say then that before marrying I had preferences but not _imperatives_ , Izumi-chan?"

"And now?" Izumi asks solicitously.

"Now I am married, and such things are only my spouse's concern," Izuna counters calmly, pouring the tea.

"And nobody can deny that he is paying _attention,_ " Inamura mutters, picking up his cup.

Tobirama decides that Izuna's brazen shamelessness _must_ be a product of being surrounded by unfairly perceptive kinsmen; when everybody is going to _comment_ on your private life, evidently the only options available are to hide it so thoroughly nobody even knows it exists or else refuse to so much as _contemplate_ apologising for anything. Izuna has clearly chosen the second one; Tobirama feels strongly inclined to follow her example.

His own family were not even _half_ so observant; he'd found that terribly frustrating when he was younger, but evidently being known has its own pitfalls. Saburō sharing his face has given the Uchiha an advantage in learning his mannerisms, but clearly Izuna is well-known enough that any privacy offered is purely out of politeness, not unawareness.

* * *

After their guests leave, Tobirama decides to explore the apparent relaxing of boundaries and restrictions a bit more. "Lord-Wife?"

"Yes, Treasure?"

"Can I visit Tōma-kun again?"

His wife smiles softly. "Of course you may, Tobirama. You're free to go anywhere within the compound boundary; that's the treeline to the north and west, the field boundary to the south and the river to the east." She pauses. "It would be _wise_ to avoid the south-eastern corner though, as that's where the Outguard trains, and the clan's smiths are mainly in the north-eastern corner and I cannot guarantee your welcome there either."

Tobirama nods, accepting her warnings; it is as ever very pleasant to be informed of what exactly he can expect. "If I am to be going outside more often I _will_ need a coat," he reminds her. "Madara-san's spare _is_ very warm, but surely he will need it back at some point."

Izuna's eyes drift away from his as she clears away the tea things, indicating that there is most _certainly_ something about the Uchiha coats that is _important_ and she deliberately isn't telling him. "A dōchū-gi or a haori for the time being, maybe?" She suggests vaguely. "They have wider sleeves."

Well, if _she_ isn't going to tell him, Tobirama is sure he can find somebody who _will_. "Either would be most welcome," he concedes, falling in step beside her with a still-sleeping Kiso balanced on his hip, "especially since the rains will be starting soon."

"Yes, you _will_ need your own coat for that," Izuna agrees, drumming her fingers lightly on the tray as she carries it around to the kitchen. "I can lend you a haori for today, if you want." She grins at him. "The murasaki one will _certainly_ fit you, since it was cut for Madara."

Tobirama would rather _not_ wear that particular haori if he can avoid it; the sheer expense if it gets damaged makes him feel vaguely queasy. At least with having an expensive restricted purple _nagajuban_ , it's very unlikely to catch on things and tear. "Do you have other haori that might fit my shoulders?"

Izuna hums thoughtfully as she ties back her sleeves; Hayami-chan isn't in the kitchen right now –he can sense her in the bathhouse, no doubt scrubbing the walls so they don't grow mould– and evidently his wife is going to do the washing up herself. Tobirama settles on the engawa across the side of the room adjacent to the rest of the house; the kitchen has a dirt floor and he can't even _reach_ past the edge of the engawa, let alone get down off it.

"I have several other haori," she concedes, turning the tap to add water to the sink then putting on an apron before reaching for the soap, "most of them very brightly coloured. The murasaki one would go best with your current outfit, which is why I suggested it."

Because he is currently wearing a murasaki obi; that is fair. Tobirama shifts Kiso around so the boy's head is resting on his shoulder; being entirely without chakra makes carrying a toddler slightly more challenging, but all that work ensuring he could move Tōka around comfortably has paid off and he can hold Kiso-kun for quite some time without his arms aching.

"Might I raid your wardrobe then, Lord-Wife?"

Her lips twitch. "The upper left tansu has haori in, on the second shelf up. Feel free to choose whichever one you think will go best with your outfit."

"Thank you." Which reminds him: "May I have a pair of geta, for everyday outdoor wear?" He will wear his battle sandals again today, but seeing as he's _not_ going to be called onto a battlefield at short notice, he'd rather have footwear it's easier to slip in and out of.

"Of course Treasure; you could even go and order them yourself, either on your way to or back from visiting Tōma. Just ask for a sandal-maker; the clan has several."

"No recommendation from my Lord-Wife?"

Izuna smiles up at him as she drains the sink, the clean teapot and cups set aside to dry. "There are those who make leather sandals and those who make wooden geta, and of those woodworkers who make geta all are equally capable, and their work equally hard-wearing. So long as you are not asking the clansman who works leather for geta, you will do just fine."

"My wife is teasing me." Very mildly, but still teasing.

"A little bit," she agrees, drying her hands, taking off the apron and untying the tasuki. "Visit your kinsman right away, or wander around and get lost first, acquire sweets and share them with Tōma-kun as you tell him about your day. You don't need to hurry back."

"I don't have any money," Tobirama points out, the reminder from Izumi to ask his wife about funds he can access lingering in his mind. Something for later.

Izuna sighs at him, chakra bemused. "Treasure, you're _kin_. Nobody's going to charge you over a few sweets; food is for sharing. You could wander past _any_ of the clan's professional cooks and be given a little something; that's the whole _point_ of their cooking for the rest of us in the first place. If a particular person wants something specific or a large order for a celebration or event, yes of course that will be done separately, but those who cook for the rest of us do so because they _enjoy_ it, Treasure. And where's the fun in cooking if there's nobody to eat it?"

That is… an entirely new and strange attitude towards food and feeding a clan. "I will seek out sweets on my way to visit Tōma-kun, then," Tobrama agrees, hoping his confusion is not _too_ obvious. "Who do I ask for directions?"

"Anyone you like; a child is more likely to lead you to your destination, though."

So he _is_ allowed to approach children in the street; good to know. "Will you take Kiso-kun, then?"

Izuna bounds lightly out of the kitchen and holds out her hands; Tobirama steps into them to kiss her, slowly yet thoroughly, before pulling back and handing over the sleeping toddler. "Thank you, Izuna."

She easily settles Kiso against her chest. "You are very welcome, Tobirama."

* * *

Tobirama takes the silver-grey haori with the plum blossom sprays embroidered on the back and sleeves; it goes well with the willow-green of his kimono, the silver-grey of his obi cords and, more importantly, _definitely_ didn't cost more than a six-month-long high-end mission involving two-dozen highly accomplished warriors. Wearing his shibori murasaki obi is already _quite enough_ in that respect. He also takes his violet wrist-bag to carry the promised sweets in, and makes sure he has a furoshiki in it just in case the sweets turn out to be better off being carried in something larger.

Well, seeing as he will be wandering around the Uchiha compound, he may as well enlist a local guide. Stepping out of the front gate of his new home, he looks around for an older child not engaged in chores.

There's nobody _immediately_ obvious, surprisingly, so Tobirama follows his ears along the road and down a side-passage to a complex-looking skipping game with almost two-dozen participants. One of the children waiting for their turn –a girl in a kimono the soft pinkish brown of ripe horsetail stems printed with colourful pinwheels, held in place by an obi striped in icy white and deep hollyhock pink– wanders over to talk to him.

"D'you need help, Nii-san?"

Tobirama ruthlessly smothers the pang that the artlessly familiar term of address inspires. "I need a new pair of geta," he tells her seriously. "Do you know where I should go?"

She grins at him. "Of course I do, Nii-san." She grabs his hand. "I'll show you!"

"Please take care of me," Tobirama teases gently, winning himself another brilliant smile as she abandons the game without a backward glance and tows him off down another footpath, leaving the stately Lineage Residences behind and wiggling between less opulent farmhouses with large vegetable gardens and clusters of fruit trees, occasionally populated by dramatic chickens.

"I'm Ren, what's your name?" she asks as they pass a small field full of people harvesting the tall, vigorous plant growing in it; Tobirama belatedly identifies it as hemp from a few fluttering leaves scattered in the wake of the harvesters.

"My name is Tobirama."

"That's a weird name," she tells him instantly. "What does it mean?"

"It's 'space between doors'."

She falls back into step beside him, squinting up at him suspiciously. "You're named after a hallway?"

"It's supposed to be poetic," Tobirama tries to explain. "Doors symbolises change or transition, moving from a known place into the unknown."

"So you're named for a place between changes? That doesn't sound very comfortable."

Tobirama can't help the cracked chuckle that climbs up his throat. "Sometimes it isn't," he admits freely. "But my Anija is called 'space between pillars' and I really wonder about that sometimes."

Ren nods, face sincere and transparently puzzled. "I can see why you'd name somebody after a pillar, _maybe_ ," she concedes, "but why the space _between_ them, Nii-san? Isn't the beam between the pillars the bit most likely to break if you didn't build the house right?"

Tobirama's never thought about it like that before; the Senju don't actually _build_ their houses with pillars like that, unlike the Uchiha. "I don't know, maybe?" He's never thought about his brother's name is that context. "We all had the 'ma' particle at the end of our names, so maybe our parents didn't think about what the characters would sound like together and just picked a first character they thought sounded poetic?"

"So you're really called 'Door' and your brother's really called 'Pillar'?" Ren considers this. "It's still weird. Why name you that when they knew the extra added-on bit would change the whole meaning?"

"I never actually asked," Tobirama admits. He's probably never going to be _able_ to ask. His mother is dead, and his father–

He shoves that thought very firmly out of his mind. "What does your name mean, Ren-chan? Are you a suspicion?" Grounds or basis for suspicion is also pronounced 'Ren'.

She giggles at him as they round another corner. "No! I'm a lotus flower!"

"Ah, a vision of purity, elegance and grace! I am honoured."

She glares up at him, huffing. "Now Nii-san is being _silly_."

"A little bit, yes," Tobirama agrees candidly. "But it is a very lovely name." He doubts her parents considered the Buddhist connotations of the symbolism for so much as a fleeting instant, but the more common meanings are no less appropriately virtuous for a young lady.

She squints at him, then lets it go. "Thanks, Nii-san."

"Do you know what Izuna-san's name means?"

She taps her chin pensively. "It's probably a mountain, Nii-san."

Well, that's a starting point at least. "I've never heard of a Mount Izuna."

"There were a lot more mountains once! But then there was the Great Drowning and those mountains got sunk to the bottom of the sea with the Emperor," Ren tells him ghoulishly. "But the Uchiha remember them! Madara-sama's a mountain too."

"Is Saburō-kun a mountain too?"

"No! He's a _tengu_."

Tobirama knows absolutely nothing about tengu beyond that they supposedly have very long noses and are associated with yamabushi; however he does not get the chance to ask for more details of why Tajima has named his youngest son after a type of mononoke, as Ren drags him off the path and into somebody's farmyard, scattering tiny quail as she announces, "Hiru-jii-san, Tobirama-nii needs new geta."

The two middle-aged men playing go under a tree look up at them. "Well, if he needs geta, he needs geta," the right-hand one says mildly, chakra diffuse but cautious.

"So he does," the left-hand one says, getting to his feet; presumably he is 'Hiru-jii-san'. "Come and sit in the workshop, Tobirama-san." He waves at the small building behind him, which is more of a roof on pillars with shōji on two sides than a barn or even a shed.

"Thank you for guiding me," Tobirama says to Ren; he is very thoroughly lost, but the compound is not so large that he can't get himself un-lost by walking in a straight line for a bit and finding an outer boundary.

She grins at him. "You're welcome, Nii-san; see you later!" Then she's out of the farmyard and vanishing around the corner, leaving Tobirama with quail pecking around his toes and a host whose board-game he has just interrupted.

Well, seeing as he's probably mostly known to these men as a killer of their kin, it's not like they had much good opinion of him to be ruined. Fortified by the certainty of very low expectations he can probably exceed, Tobirama carefully steps around the churring quail and makes his way into the workshop.

* * *

Ten minutes later Tobirama finds himself politely turned out of the geta-maker's home; unsurprising, all things considered. His feet were measured, he chose how high he wanted the teeth to be and picked out a suitable woven thong, then was informed that they'd be delivered to him in a few days' time; a subtle eviction, but no less firm for that.

Tobirama accepts this with as much grace and dignity as he can, asking for directions to someone who will be making sweets today. Yes, he _will_ get lost, but it saves face on both sides for him to claim a secondary destination and maybe the directions will let him find someone more willing to help.

Uchiha Hiru-san does kindly oblige him with directions, but Tobirama _still_ gets lost. However his realisation that he has taken a wrong turn somewhere comes when he finds himself facing a large old-fashioned shrine surrounded by mandarin trees on which tiny fruits are already starting to grow. Seeing as this was _not_ mentioned as a landmark, he has definitely misplaced himself; that it takes him _several seconds_ to coordinate the angle of the sun and the time of day to determine which way he is facing is more proof of the strength of his wife's irritatingly effective defensive fuuinjutsu. It can evidently be circumvented if one comes at it the right way, but doing so is proving challenging.

The young man sweeping the open paved square between the front of the shrine and the perimeter of fruit trees turns to look at him, then walks closer. Unlike the rest of the adult Uchiha he's met so far this one's chakra presence is negligible, if still clearly Fire Natured.

"Tobirama-sama." He nods politely.

"I am very lost," Tobirama admits without a shred of shame; "Hiru-san the geta-maker gave me directions to a clansman who is making sweets today, but evidently I did not memorise them accurately."

The painfully average-looking Uchiha half-leaning on his broom smiles at him. "Ah, Hiru-ji's directions are notoriously suspect, Tobirama-sama. He will tell you what _used_ to be there a decade ago, not what is there now; quite a few fields and buildings have changed since then."

So it's _not_ him; that is actually a relief. He had been concerned his wife might have increased the disorientation effect after the assassination attempt on the Diplomatic Quarters, seeing as the defence had not actually prevented that from happening. "No need for such formality, please; and what should I call you?"

"Uchiha Shosha, Tobirama-san, of no particular Lineage." The young man bows, slow and easy. "Usu-ba is making manjū today; I'll walk you there." He leans his broom against the nearest citrus tree and walks into arm's reach.

"Lead on then please, Shosha-san," Tobirama says gratefully. "Are you the clan's shrine keeper?" It's a distant cousin who keeps the Senju's clan shrine, decorating it for festivals and reciting sutras at weddings, funerals and the various childhood ceremonies. Tobirama had tried to suggest Tokyōma might enjoy taking on some of those responsibilities when it became clear his cousin was _not_ cut out for war, but Tokyōma had been very firmly against the idea so Tobirama had dropped it.

The young man shakes his head. "The shrine does not have a keeper, Tobirama-san; it falls to Lineage Heads to intercede on the clan's behalf to the kami, those Manifest Heads in particular. I am merely one of the many who tend to the shrine's day-to-day care."

Being a 'Manifest Head' –and Tobirama still does not know what that _means_ – is considered a holy calling? That's rather strange; Izuna does not act at all as though she considers herself a priest. "Izuna-san ministers to the clan at festivals?" He asks, falling into step beside Shosha.

"Izuna-sama does not; it is Madara-sama who does so, for the most part, although Hikaku-sama and Taka-sama also play their part." Shosha smiles, small and polite as they walk down a track between two farmhouses. "Izuna-sama has explained her reasoning, and the clan has deemed it adequate and sufficient. So she is not called upon."

Tobirama senses a very sore subject being neatly side-stepped; he obligingly changes the subject. "It is a very beautiful shrine; to whom is it dedicated?"

"To Amaterasu-Ōmikami first of all, as the clan's most longstanding patron, but there are many other altars for the clan's other patrons and related kami."

This is very clearly the centre of the Uchiha Compound; barely a minute away from the shrine and they are in a dense quarter of traditional town houses complete with workshops facing wide paved roads, loud with running children, off-duty warriors and gossiping women. Tobirama feels _observed_ but no-one is _obviously_ staring and no warrior turns their sharingan in his direction; however the empty space around him and Shosha remains inviolate.

The amiable young man leads him to a shop-front with the shutters pulled completely open, bypassing the many loitering children and teenagers to lean in and address the two women working in the large front kitchen, sleeves tied back and kimono protected by sturdy canvas aprons. It all smells _very_ good just here, a mouth-watering tangle of wagashi flavours with anko paste dominating the mix.

"Tobirama-sama would like some manjū, Usu-ba, Fukumi-chan."

"Oh, and you wouldn't?" The older woman teases warmly, turning around to look Tobirama in the eye and smile. "I'll put a selection together for you, Tobirama-sama."

"I am sharing them with my young kinsman in the Diplomatic Quarters," Tobirama says, the words tripping out over his tongue almost without thought.

"The Senju boy Naonaka-san was so concerned about?" The other woman asks, looking up and revealing herself to be around Tobirama's own age; grown, but not quite finished yet. "Put in extra manjū, Ba-chan; Nii-san said Naonaka-san thought he looked underfed."

"We can't have that, oh no," Usu-san nods to herself, selecting a piece of paper and rapidly folding it into a deep tray, then filling it with round sweets in five different colours before folding a slightly smaller tray and laying that over the top for another layer.

"I brought a furoshiki," Tobirama offers, fishing it out of his bag.

"A man who thinks ahead," Usu-san praises him warmly, eyes twinkling teasingly as she accepts it and moves the paper trays onto the middle of the unfolded wrapping cloth on the front counter, then adds a third tray full of manjū before knotting it closed over the top. "There you are Tobirama-sama; I expect to see you again soon, so you can tell me how you liked them."

"I will be sure to do so, Usu-san." He will doubtless also be sharing the sweets with Kiso after dinner this evening, there are that many.

"I am feeding you, Tobirama-sama; you will call me Ba-san."

He bows. "Thank you, Usu-ba." At his elbow, the younger woman hands Shosha a much smaller package.

"You're not sharing them with a ravenous little boy, Shosha-kun," she says tartly in response to some facial cue Tobirama misses entirely, "and they're all with that sweet ume filling you like, not a selection."

"Fukumi-chan knows me so well," Shosha says lightly, ducking his chin in a not-quite-bow.

"Shoo, both of you," Usu-ba says fondly; "you can flirt hopelessly with Fukumi-chan later, Sho-kun."

There's a laugh from the bystanders and Tobirama lets himself be steered back into the middle of the street, then along and away from the crowd.

"Shosha-san is courting?" He ventures slyly, smirking when the young man flushes scarlet and reflexively slaps his shoulder.

"No! No, nothing like that," Shosha says, meagre chakra overlaid with a generous helping of both lust and confusion. "It's just, Fukimi-chan's _pretty_."

Tobirama easily brings the young woman's face to mind; it hadn't moved him in the slightest, but he can concede the symmetry and soft curve of her chin were aesthetic.

"You don't see it, do you." It's not a question, so Tobirama doesn't answer it. "You think Izuna-sama's pretty?"

"I find her beautiful," Tobirama admits calmly, "but I recognise my Lord-Wife is an acquired taste." That he has, perhaps unfortunately, been unable to avoid acquiring.

Shosha-san sniggers. "Oh, I like that; I'm going to use that, Tobirama-sama. 'An acquired taste,' that's exactly right and completely hilarious."

Tobirama rolls his eyes but doesn't comment as the paved road continues beyond the cluster of town houses, passing between farms, storehouses and a range of fields; the most notable landmark is another silkworm barn, the relentless munching filling his ears like summer rain on a tiled roof. Then they turn around an orchard and Tobirama suddenly knows where he is: he is once more at the back of the Lineage Residences, able to sense Hayami-chan in the garden not very far away at all.

He does vaguely remember the landmarks for getting to the Diplomatic Quarters from here, but the more he tries to bring them to mind the more determinedly they elude him. More proof he does not think of himself as Uchiha yet, as if he needed any to know that.

Shosha steers him to the right, away from the Amaterasu Residence. "It's quicker to go this way towards the southern boundary," he says, picking a track and leading the way along it, "and the Diplomatic Quarters isn't that far from there."

"Does _everybody_ know what it's called?" Tobirama would have thought the place didn't get used much, seeing as Izuna has only mentioned a couple of other previous concubines over a period of several hundred years.

Shosha smirks. "When we host guests or clients, they sleep there. Without the fuuinjutsu active, of course, but it's got good sightlines and is easy to secure."

And is attractively decorated as well, provided you hide the manacles. Tobirama can't say he's surprised; from the outside the building does look like a very fashionable tea house or guest house. Of _course_ the Uchiha host guests there, along with the 'guests'.

And if one should happen to misbehave while visiting, the transition from one to the other can be made instantaneously.

* * *

Tōma is much happier this time, still dressed in slightly oversized indigo –possibly to remind his captors that he is a trained shinobi– but with only one ankle shackled and a teenage Uchiha in warrior dress sprawled on the engawa nearby, debating energetically with him over the merits and flaws of the strategies employed by the Riverlands' various shinobi clans. A clever choice; not personal or dangerous to either, but sufficiently well-known a subject for them to discuss it for hours. The building itself still carries the scars of Izuna's rescue: the fusuma panels have been replaced by plain ones, half of the shōji and several tatami mats are markedly newer than the rest and the faint scent of blood and disinfectants lingers uneasily.

Both young men are delighted by the manjū, although Tobirama takes care to keep back the bottom layer to share with Kiso and Izuna once he gets home. Usu-ba was right that one can never have too many sweets when dealing with ravenous teenage boys; he did manage to try several different types though, so he doesn't begrudge them the treat.

He lets them draw him into their debate, adding information they are unaware of and steering the discussion in new directions until the guard shift on the building changes and he realises he needs to go home for dinner. Tōma hugs him fiercely this time –no doubt acutely aware of what a privilege it is to retain the use of his arms after the better part of three days with them restrained– and insists on having him pass on thanks to Izuna; Tobirama knows Izuna will wince at the reminder of her negligence, but he still agrees to do so.

Tōma _is_ grateful and that should be recognised, for all that the circumstances are not what they might be.

Today is almost over and it seems there has been no word; only tomorrow is left, and then Tajima will be writing to the daimyo with gleeful punctuality over the Senju's dishonourable disrespect, bright and early on the morning after.

He is going to have to ask his wife about acquiring him some mofuku. Since he can't _do_ anything about his clan's impending demise, he may as well ensure he can _dress_ to show his grief over the entirely avoidable loss.

If he pleads his case to her, maybe he can persuade her to rescue a few of his little cousins. Tōma's sisters are very young still, and Rika-ba's youngest Ine-chan is barely six; it's not like the Senju were ever particularly meticulous about record-keeping where children are concerned either. If he tells his wife what to do, she can sneak in and destroy a few records so as to spare some of the younger ones. He's sure Rika-ba and Ajisai-ba would both jump at the opportunity.

If there is no messenger from his family tomorrow, he will discuss it with her on the day after. She _did_ promise to do what she could for peace between their clans, after all, so he doesn't _think_ she would hesitate to spirit away a few of his littlest cousins. Not when the kindest of the other options that await them is death.


	34. Chapter 34

Tobirama opens his eyes to soft morning light and loud birdsong, Izuna lying in his bed facing him. Her eyes are open; she was evidently watching him sleep.

"How long have you been awake?" He asks quietly, reaching up to stroke her face. She's here because he asked her to be, wanted her warmth and reassuring presence beside him as he slept, but they're both wearing sleeping yukata because last night, as he promised yesterday morning, Izuna was too tender for further sexual intimacy.

She's probably still sore now, but there are other things he can still do, less sensitive but no less sensual places he can touch and kiss as he holds her close, basking in her warmth. Not that he will necessarily be in the mood for much of that in the near future, given how matters have developed, but comfort is comfort and he is unlikely to turn it down.

"A while," she confesses, anxiety and sorrow giving her chakra a melancholic tinge. "I had hoped for better than this, Treasure."

Tobirama slides closer, wrapping his arms around his wife and rolling slightly so she is leaning her weight into him. "I know," he assures her gently, kissing her temple. "I know. You did what you could, you made the path clear, and so did I. But it's not up to us now."

"No, it isn't." She sighs sharply. "Fair warning Treasure, if there is _still_ no word by tomorrow morning I am going to be _very_ poor company."

"Likewise," Tobirama agrees, breathing through the pang of visceral horror of what that will _mean_ for his clan. They'll be _gone_. _Entirely_ gone. "Though I was hoping I could persuade you to be a little proactive and spirit away a few of my younger kin, especially the girls." Even if _not_ executed, bad things happen to little girls without a clan to protect them. Is it wrong to hope the daimyo will choose to execute them down to the youngest children, rather than plunge into debt those deemed insufficiently guilty to die? Once saddled with debts and trapped in employment contracts to pay off those debts –assuming the dubious mercies of the court will let any children with the Senju name live– a master may use an indentured servant as they please and sell on the contracts of those that displease them, to inevitably terrible ends.

He would rather wield the blade himself, than submit his littlest cousins to such.

"Well the clan is already laughing at me over my bending to your every passing whim," his wife says ruefully, not upset in the slightest, "so what's another blow to my reputation at this point?"

Tobirama cradles her head in both hands and presses hungry kisses to her mouth, his entire body _aching_ with relief and desperate gratitude. "You are so good to me, Izuna," he murmurs in between breaths, "So good. I could _never_ repay this."

"It's not about _payment_ , Treasure," she whispers as he shifts from exploring her mouth to lavishing attention on the sensitive skin of her cheek, ear and throat, hands untying her sleeping yukata to caress her body beneath it, "it's about grace. I _can_ give you this, and it would please you at little enough cost to myself. So why _shouldn't_ I?"

Why _shouldn't_ she? Why _shouldn't_ she risk herself and subject herself –and her entire _clan_ – to the awkwardness of stolen children they will all _know_ the provenance of, to her father's irritation and censure, and suffer patiently through the rage and grief of those selfsame children, who will _surely_ blame Izuna for the loss of the rest of the Senju? She is no fool, she _knows_ what a trial it would be, and she considers it 'little enough cost'?

How is Tobirama supposed to _not_ love Izuna for this?

"Then let me give you what _I_ can that pleases _you_ in return," he says. "Whatever I can, whenever I can, that _I_ feel costs _me_ little enough."

_My body. My heart. My very_ _**soul;** _ _it's yours for the taking._

Oh yes; he is most _certainly_ a fool.

"Of course, Treasure," she agrees easily, tugging lightly on his hair and pressing a kiss to his lips when he yields to her. "Whatever you give freely and kindly."

Then she winces, pain lancing sharply through her chakra as she carefully disentangles herself from him, and Tobirama is mercifully spared from saying whatever incautious words were lying in wait under his tongue in response to her willing acceptance.

* * *

They've just finished breakfast and Izuna is doing a very good job of hiding her unease behind a tickling game with a gleefully giggling Kiso when Madara wanders into the grounds alongside Moreya-san. The Amaterasu Elder is here to babysit the toddler for the morning, but what has brought his brother-in-law along?

Apparently socialising; as Moreya-san scoops up the toddler and tosses him easily into the air –Kiso squeals delightedly– Madara settles on the edge of the engawa beside his sister, sandaled feet hanging. He's wearing a kimono –or possibly just a shirt– of light grey silk with a very subtle ice-white crashing-wave print pattern along with a pair of scorched-tea brown silk hakama, a leather harness over the top with bags and various unfamiliar accoutrements hanging off it. He looks very much like he's stopping by on the way to somewhere else, which rather suggests the man is so _used_ to doing things in Izuna's general vicinity that _not_ talking to her in passing would be unthinkable.

Evidently Tobirama's also getting better at calling to mind the colour reference guide Izuna gave him, to remember the names for all these various shades.

It's a warm morning, much warmer than it was yesterday at this time; it seems the summer heat is already arriving. Tobirama is wearing his shrimp kimono over a white nagajuban, belted with the checked half-width obi, because the implied promise of a long life is very comforting today. Izuna, perhaps in response to Izumi's prodding yesterday, is wearing an orange kimono decorated with a lattice of dense and deceptively regular shibori; the particular shade is one that is achieved by double-dying with turmeric and safflower, which is reflected in its name. The sleeves are comfortably mid-range for a married woman, yet if neatly shortened the garment could also be suitable for a man; Tobirama suspects this kimono is one Izuna is rather fond of, as it has all the subtle cues of high cost –that shibori and the quasi-imperial shade– while also being tastefully subtle.

Izuna does not quite _flaunt_ her wealth and status, but she certainly does not modestly efface it either. The obi belting this ensemble is half-width, but a vibrantly bright wakame green printed with a pattern of plantain-leaf outlines in a darker green that match the plain lining. The overall result is attractively floral, as though Izuna is dressed in blooming orange lilies.

"On your way to visit your ladies, Nii-san?" Izuna asks lightly.

"You know me so well," Madara banters back, smiling comfortably; Tobirama frowns, puzzled. Ladies? Izuna had said she didn't think her older brother was interested in women. Well in marrying or having children specifically, but the impression he'd got was a lack of interest in intimate relationships generally. That may yet change as Madara ages, but it's unlikely the other man will be dragged from the battlefield by a warrior maiden wishing to bed and wed him, so any changes in his opinion will be at his own discretion rather than pressed upon him.

"His hawks," Izuna explains, sensing his confusion and glancing his way with a soft twitch of the lips. "Any woman wishing to court Madara-nii would do well to be a keen hunter with birds of prey, as otherwise I'm not sure how she'd manage to persuade him to spend enough time with her to notice he was being wooed."

"My little sister is so mean to me," Madara complains spuriously, pouting. "Like she doesn't _also_ like to go out with a hawk on her wrist and bring back food for the pot."

"Oh I enjoy the thrill, Nii-san," Izuna agrees easily as Moreya-san waves goodbye and takes his leave, "but I'm not _obsessed_ like you are. Moreya-jii and I do well with Kohaku between us; unlike _you_ with your two spoiled princesses."

"Izanami and Bijō are _not_ spoiled," Madara counters instantly, glaring. Madara named one of his hawks after the goddess of Yomi, then called the other 'beautiful woman'? That's rather funny.

"Izanami is a vicious, temperamental and bloodthirsty little killer and Bijō is a lazy layabout," Izuna retorts blandly, "and you let them both get away with it."

"I do not have to sit here and accept this slander," Madara grumps, but neither moves nor attempts to defend himself further; his chakra is all steady warmth as well, so evidently this is a normal and comfortable interaction with Izuna by his standards. Izuna also seems brighter for it, so Tobirama does not try to interrupt.

"Of course not," Izuna agrees, smirking. There's a comfortable pause.

"So have you already discussed with Otou-sama what you want him to write to the Senju?" Madara asks idly. "Seeing as you're obviously not meeting him today, given," he waves at her outfit.

Izuna whitens, her chakra skipping rapidly through shock, realisation and pain before settling into terrible burning fury that radiates around her like a choking cloud. Tobirama wheezes, struggling for breath; it's not quite Intent, but he has _no chakra_ right now and can't defend himself at _all_. No way to withstand the emotions bearing down on him or keep his body from reacting to them, both in fear and in rage; how _dare_ Tajima keep this from them?!

Then suddenly all that pain and rage are dragged back into a tighter radius and Izuna is rising sharply to her feet. "Excuse me please," she said precisely, "I need to go change into something _formal_." She marches back indoors, the shōji panels closing apparently of their own accord behind her.

Tobirama leans forwards and takes deep, steadying breaths, willing his heart to settle. He's _never_ felt Izuna like _that_ before, not _ever_. On the battlefield she is focused, almost aloof; _nothing_ like whatever _that_ was.

Across the engawa, Madara's contained and intensely incandescent clove-scented chakra is thick with horrified realisation and laced with undercurrents of resigned misery. "I'm sorry," the older Uchiha says softly; "I thought he'd told you. A letter arrived by regular courier yesterday morning, and then another one in the later afternoon via bird summons; an egret, I believe."

Tobirama shakes his head, acutely aware of the contained hurricane of enraged focus that is his Lord-Wife ransacking her tansu. "We heard nothing at all," he says flatly as he straightens up again, "from anybody." Bringing the Uchiha legal code to mind, he's fairly sure it's not _against_ those rules for Tajima to do this –as Outguard Head the man _is_ supposed to represent his clansmen to outsiders and promote their best interests– but when Izuna is explicitly the wronged party here, it is _appropriate_ for her to be involved in the discussion of terms and what _she_ considers appropriate restitution, even if she is not present for the actual negotiation part. Tajima avoiding that is _wrong_ , yet also the sort of slyness Tobirama is coming to expect from his _honoured_ father-in-law.

Madara winces and closes his eyes, then shakes his head as though to dislodge his newfound awareness of his father's latest misdeed. "Seeing as Izuna's going to be busy this morning, do you want to come hawking with me?"

"I can't leave the compound," Tobirama says. It's entirely possible he _can_ leave with a suitable escort, but he'd honestly rather _not_ have Madara be that escort on a first excursion when he doesn't know what the rules Izuna has set out for such things are. Madara will not know the limitations and penalties involved in the fuuinjutsu over his spine, and Tobirama is wary of incurring a crippling injury over an infraction he was unaware of making.

"That's fine; we can exercise the birds over the fields, that's important too," Madara replies easily. "I can teach you the basics with one of my Ladies, then once Izuna's free again she might show off her Queen."

Tobirama hesitates; he's tempted, honestly. A day indoors with Izuna had been the plan earlier, but with this new revelation he'd rather _not_ be alone in the house all morning, fretting over what might be happening. The worst _isn't_ happening –miraculously– so he'd do well to accept a distraction and then hear from Izuna later what exactly _is_ going on.

"What should I wear?" He asks; he doesn't _have_ anything like what Madara's wearing. Well he's got indigo warrior work-wear, but he's reluctant to resort to that. It reminds everybody that he is a dangerous shinobi, which given his chakra is currently bound and he can't defend himself, he'd rather _not_ do. It would make him more target than not and he does not wish to be provocative; he does not know whether the fuuinjutsu binding him will protect him from harm he can be considered to have _invited._

Madara eyes him. "Well, I'm sure you'd fit into Izuna's hakama," he says thoughtfully, "but I think you'd be better off with a kosode than a full-length kimono; more comfortable on a day like this."

"My wife did not think I would fit my shoulders into her spare coat, so I doubt her shirts will fit me," Tobirama says dryly. Yes, the haori _did_ fit, but those are cut rather more loosely than a kosode would be.

Madara chuckles. "I can lend you a shorter garment, brother-in-law," he says comfortably. "But I need to know which hakama you're going to be wearing to choose one that will _match_."

Tobirama quickly goes over his wife's clothing in his mind; what hakama has he seen her wearing? Purple springs to mind, but he is _not_ wearing those; not the pink ones either. "The red-kite hakama," he decides; they were plain and suitably inoffensive.

Madara nods, frowning thoughtfully. "I have something that will suit then," he decides, sliding down into the kitchen. "I'll go and fetch it now, before Izuna storms the Clan Hall." He pauses. "And I'll get Hikaku to warn everybody else; nobody should have to deal with Izuna when she's like this."

"Not even your father?" Tobirama can't keep himself from asking.

Madara's face tightens. "Our Lord-Father knowingly brought this upon himself," he says shortly, then turns and hurries out into the garden before vanishing in a rush of chakra.

In his absence, Tobirama can no longer avoid the thought that for the Senju to have written _yesterday morning_ , his father much be at _least_ two days dead. Possibly even buried.

He _can't_ think about that now though. This afternoon maybe, if Izuna's back by then. He will at least be able to avoid betraying clan secrets to assist her in stealing away his younger kin –not that he would consider it betrayal if the clan were due to die in less than a month– but he's really _not_ sure how arranging restitution and peace talks will go between Tajima and Anija.

It will be a battle of wits, not strength of arms, and his brother is unfortunately lacking there.

* * *

Madara has returned with the promised shorter garment in a light, dull orange-brown decorated with a very thin and subtle grass-pattern and Tobirama has changed into it –over one of the linen undershirts that go with the indigo work-wear, since the weather is actually warm enough for that– before Izuna's stormy presence finally settles into grim determination and she opens her bedroom's fusuma again.

"Lord-Wife, may I borrow your red kite hakama?" He asks instantly through the open fusuma of his own room.

"Of course you may," Izuna says firmly, forbiddingly formal in a crested black tomesode with a great deal of real gold and silver brocaded over the kimono skirt in a design of phoenixes, noshi strips and intricate flowers edged with clouds, belted with an obi which is almost _all_ gold with geometrically rendered chrysanthemums picking out the colours of the kimono decoration, finished with glimmering white obi cords that match the bustle sash. Her hair is intricately styled with multiple pins and she has even painted her face slightly; the result is however intimidating rather than attractive.

"Where should I look for hakama, Lord-Wife?"

"They are in the same tansu as the haori, on the lower shelf." She sweeps past him, black-strapped zōri hanging from one hand, then pauses, voice softening slightly: "Do borrow a haori as well, Treasure."

"I will do so," Tobirama agrees; he can wear the orange one he saw yesterday. He takes a fortifying breath: "Good hunting, Izuna."

His wife turns and smiles at him, all teeth and rage. "Thank you, Tobirama."

Tobirama finishes dressing in his wife's room; the hakama are exactly as plain as he remembers, but the imperial orange haori has variously sized gold chrysanthemums embroidered across the back. He hesitates, then puts it on anyway; he's an Uchiha by marriage now, and it's not like he's leaving clan grounds.

Madara doesn't comment when he steps out of the front door, so Tobirama takes that as permission; after all, if he really _shouldn't_ be wearing this, Madara is the person who would _know_ and speak up accordingly.

"So," Tobirama says as he walks down the garden path beside Madara –who, unlike Hashirama, is actually walking at an easy pace so he doesn't have to hurry– "I know absolutely nothing about falconry."

"That's a good place to start," his brother-in-law says earnestly. "It's much easier to get things right if you don't have any pre-existing misconceptions. Don't worry, Hiuchi-san has plenty of gear you can borrow and if you just want to watch after I've explained everything, that's fine too. I've been hawking since I was six, but I know it's not for everybody."

Tobirama's fairly sure the _real_ reason falconry is 'not for everybody' is that it's actually prohibitively expensive, as well as legally restricted to the nobility. Still, it's a good distraction and that is what he _really_ wanted out of this morning.

"Has Izuna-san also been hawking that long?" He asks.

Madara pauses. "My little sister only really got into hawking after our father cut all her other lessons in favour of warrior training," he says quietly. "He re-started them all again when she was thirteen, as by then she'd proved she didn't _need_ to be training every other moment to survive, but she kept up the falconry regardless; she was raising a bird from the egg by then, so Father couldn't exactly _stop_ her."

So Izuna only got into it when she was nine, likely with Madara and her great-uncle introducing her to it as something to do when not training. "But she enjoys it."

Madara smiles, soft and fond. "I believe so. It certainly always makes her smile when Kohaku has a successful hunt."

"I would like to learn then," Tobirama decides firmly, "so that I can do it with her."

"Then it would be my honour and my pleasure to teach you, brother-in-law," Madara says, tone both warm and commanding. "Ah, there are the mews; come, I will show you around and explain what everything is called, and how to use it."

Tobirama follows almost without thinking; Madara on the battlefield has always been incomprehensively loud and over-dramatic while fighting Anija, but it seems that _off_ it he is both remarkably civilised and unexpectedly charismatic. When not wincing awkwardly, completely at a loss for words or giggling drunkenly, that is.

* * *

The sun is high and the heat is becoming stifling despite the slight breeze when Izuna walks into his sensory range several hours later, chakra steady and no longer roiling with determined wrath. Tobirama doesn't react; he has a goshawk perched on his gloved fist, greedily ripping apart the hot entrails of a green pheasant unfortunate enough to be spotted on one of the bean-fields. Madara is lavishly praising the hawk as Hiuchi-san, the clan's full-time falconer, finishes gutting the dead bird so it can be hung and then eaten later. Possibly for dinner tonight, but certainly no later than tomorrow.

He now understands why his wife called this particular bird 'a vicious, temperamental little murderer'; the other goshawk spent almost an hour sitting comfortably on Madara's fist, refusing to fly even when a dove was pecking at the ground in plain sight, but after Hiuchi-san swapped the birds out and Madara suggested Tobirama try holding the next one, there were mere _minutes_ before the goshawk took sudden flight, using his arm to launch itself into the air –and Tobirama is grateful for Madara's warning him about that, along with _thoroughly_ testing his arm-strength before trusting him with a bird at all– and throw itself at the half-hidden pheasant, setting all the birds in the neighbouring fields also fleeing in loud terror. The pheasant however had not been fast enough, and the goshawk had proudly brought Tobirama its kill, dropping it at his feet before landing on his wrist again to smugly groom its bloody claws.

It had then accepted the hot entrails Madara offered as its due, gobbling them down and then begging shamelessly for more. His brother-in-law is even now indulging the little glutton with meat from his feed box, praising her extravagantly for her achievement.

Madara looks up finally when Izuna actually walks into sight at the field edge. "Izuna! Look what my lovely Izanami caught for your spouse."

"We will have to eat it for dinner tomorrow then," Izuna says equably, the pale chinaberry purple of the haori half-hiding her black tomesode not particularly effective in disguising the acute formality of her dress. She has at least washed off the make-up, reducing the severity of her appearance. "In the meantime," she produces several bento boxes, "I have lunch for my brother and my spouse."

"I will take Izanami, Tobirama-sama," Hiuchi-san says calmly, reaching out and doing just that; the goshawk allows itself to be moved, digging claws into the falconer's fist and ducking to preen herself further.

"I was going to see if she'd fly again; it's a good day and she's not eaten much," Madara says, smiling at his sister but chakra faintly hopeful as Hiuchi steps aside out of arm's reach.

"Well, seeing as you have spent the morning instructing my treasure rather than indulging yourself with the hunt, I don't see why you can't fly Kohaku _this_ once, Nii-san," Izuna says teasingly. "If she'll let you, of course."

Madara lights up even as Hiuchi slides a hood over Izanami the goshawk's head, firmly settling the bird. "Thank you, little sister!" He darts forwards and hugs her, mindful of the bloody smears on his bare hand. "I'll be good to her, I promise."

"You have a gentle hand with your feathered ladies, Madara-nii," Izuna teases her older brother lightly, "even though they could probably stand a little more discipline."

"But what if they left me? How would I ever manage without them?" Madara teases back as he straightens up, tone light but words terribly earnest. Izuna pokes him in the ribs, then hands him a bento; the elder Uchiha sibling makes as though to tuck it behind his back, then stretches, hands abruptly empty. That is evidently the same seal Madara uses to carry his gunbai around; Tobirama is terribly curious as to how it works, as it seems a little different to Izuna's sleeve seals.

Sleeve seals which seem to _not_ depend on the specific garment she's wearing, seeing as neither this borrowed haori or yesterday's, or even the nagajuban he'd poked at while he had her tansu open have any fuuinjutsu on them anywhere.

He's undressed Izuna enough times to know there are no seals on any of her visible skin, and he's never found any in her underwear either. So where _is_ this terribly clever and useful bit of fuuinjutsu hiding? Red ink deeply embedded in muscle tissue, perhaps? There _are_ Uzumaki with colourful seals carved in their skin, but they are the minority; only certain kinds of fuuinjutsu master bother to have their work forever etched upon their bodies.

"So what have you acquired for me, Izuna-chan?" Madara asks, uncoiling and re-coiling the long red silk leash hanging at his hip then walking up to Tobirama to unknot the supple deerskin glove that was protecting his fingers from the goshawk's claws.

"It's not inarizushi, Nii-san," Izuna says fondly. "Just okowa rice with pickles and some teriyaki fish."

"A feast!" Madara replies brightly, turning to smile at his sister as he removes the glove and puts it on his own left hand, easily tying it in place one-handed. "I shall enjoy eating it."

"Do we also have fish?" Tobirama asks hopefully. His wife smiles at him.

"Of course; I could not _possibly_ deprive you." The smile deepens into a smirk. "Shall we eat in the persimmon orchard again?"

Tobirama feels himself smirking back. "That would be most agreeable; is Kiso-kun eating with Moreya-san?"

"Yes: I sent a messenger to let Jii-san know that official business had come up, and he assured me he would be happy to keep Kiso-kun for a bit longer than usual."

"Then please," he walks closer, despite that meaning having to step out from the convenient patch of shade he had been enjoying, "lead on, Lord-Wife."

"Hn." Izuna leans in to kiss him, then produces her fish-print umbrella from thin air. "Here, some portable shade for my fair-skinned treasure."

"I am going to leave you two lovebirds to it," Madara says dryly, moving off with the hooded goshawk now secured on his fist, Hiuchi-san falling into step behind him with the other gear. He pauses at the field boundary: "Thank you for the loan of Kohaku, Izuna-chan; I'll fly her after I've made sure Izanami's done all she wants to."

"Have a good rest of the day, Nii-san," Izuna replies agreeably, steering Tobirama onto a path leading between two farm-houses. "Do let Hikaku know it's safe to come out of hiding, and that nobody died."

"No blood on the tatami either?"

"Not this time."

"Hn." Madara's chakra ripples, warmth battling with worry. "I'll keep a closer eye on things in the future, little sister."

"It's not your job to do that, Nii-san."

"I'm your big brother; of _course_ it's my job."

Izuna shakes her head, but Tobirama can feel the gratitude this assertion inspires in her. "Take care, Nii-san."

"You too, little sister; enjoy your lunch!" With that he swiftly walks out of sight and earshot, and Izuna turns to also lead the way towards their destination. Tobirama tries not to be jealous of the easy, open understanding between his wife and her brother, but it's hard. His relationship with Hashirama has _never_ been that balanced or that clearly understood. He's never been able to make Anija listen to what he was _saying_ , rather than whatever conclusion his brother somehow drew from the first few words out of his mouth.

"How was your morning, Treasure?"

Tobirama gratefully seizes the distraction. "I have learned a great many new words, discovered that birds of prey are not actually very clever but make up for it in low cunning, and that if our elder brothers decided to resolve the feud over a chakra-less arm-wrestling match Anija would probably lose," he says, enjoying her giggle at his joke. "I hadn't realised how strong and steady a falconer's arm had to be until Madara-san was balancing a jug of water on my wrist." That had been a shock and his muscles still ache from it, unused to the posture and the strain. If Izuna can do that too, then her catching him and carrying him bodily from the battlefield is no longer so surprising; she must have _very_ strong shoulders.

"I spent about six months balancing a water gourd on my wrist all the time I wasn't training before being allowed to hold a hawk," Izuna says, tone faintly nostalgic. "But then again, I was ten."

"That sounds adorable." Tobirama wishes he could have seen it.

Izuna glances sideways at him. "Moreya-jii could probably show you, if you wanted," she offers. "He was certainly peeking at me with his sharingan enough when I was practicing."

"Maybe." Tobirama trusts Izuna, but he's still not sure how he feels about allowing _other_ Uchiha into his mind like that. Even to be shown adorable childhood memories of his wife.

"And what do you think of Madara's true loves?" His wife inquires lightly.

Tobirama snorts at that amusing description. "A pair of self-absorbed feather-dusters who both know he loves them too much to make them do anything they don't want to." Hence Bijō –the first hawk– not budging from Madara's wrist despite the readily-available prey; the goshawk _knew_ that it would get fed regardless, and didn't care to expend a single iota of effort.

Izuna cackles. "So true," she agrees, squeezing his hand. They pass the rest of the walk to the persimmon orchard in comfortable silence, Tobirama chewing quietly over his own thoughts.

The goshawks are not _tame_ , not like the Uchiha's chicken and quail are, coming when called by childish voices and fearless enough to be picked up and tucked under the arm of a four-year-old without lashing out. Madara and Hiuchi-san had been meticulous with gloves and purple leather jesses despite the rigorous training that the birds have undergone from almost the moment they were hatched, and in those first hours of teaching Madara had mentioned that sometimes when flying a bird, it doesn't come back.

"They're wild," he'd said; "It's in their nature. I can raise a hawk from the egg, feed it by hand and fledge it on a leash, but it will never stop being wild inside. So I have to accept that every time I take off one of my ladies' hoods and fly her, I may never get her back. That's just how it is; I'll only get her back if she _wants_ to come back, and every time I take her out she makes that choice."

Seeing each hawk in a little private room in the mews, calm despite being tied to their perches, had given Tobirama a very strange feeling that had lingered until about two-thirds of the way through the hour Madara had wasted trying to get Bijō to rouse herself and catch so much as a field mouse. His brother-in-law's disappointment had been overlaid on steady acceptance, and he'd apologised more for wasting so much time after Bijō proved intractable than for anything to do with the bird at all; it was Madara's failure to read her mood that was regrettable, not the bird's refusal to cooperate with his desires.

After that Madara had spent a little while showing off the lazy bird on her red silk leash, bribing her with gobbets of raw meat so she flew around the quiet courtyard in front of the mews for Tobirama to admire, before putting her away in favour of a more cooperative hunter.

Does Izuna think of him as a hawk, hooded in silk, jessed with purple and tied to a perch, to be exercised on a leash in a secure space and coaxed into cooperating with tasty morsels? To be loved sincerely and doted upon unstintingly, ever mindful that being bound does not make him _tame_ , never forgetting that to release him means accepting the possibility of permanent abandonment?

Does he dare to _ask_?

No. He does not.

* * *

Lunch is very pleasant, but the subversive delight of eating in the persimmon orchard again is tempered by Izuna being dressed in stiflingly formal black, kimono skirt and obi both brocaded with so much gold and silver as to perceptibly add to the garment's weight. However that formality is somewhat offset by Tobirama being in hakama for the first time in months, a pleasure he is determined to enjoy as much as he can. Yes, they are his wife's hakama –and her haori over his brother-in-law's shorter kimono– but the mobility is something to be appreciated.

"What can you tell me about the letter?" He asks once they have both finished eating and Izuna has packed the empty bento away again.

"And about my response, hn?" Izuna notes perceptively. "No need to censor yourself Treasure; I know this whole business has been extremely distressing." She takes a breath, composing herself, then meets his eyes. "It was signed by Senju Tokonoma."

His uncle? Yes, Tobirama _knew_ that the only way for the Senju to accept the Uchiha's terms were for his father to –to _die_ – but his _uncle_ is in charge now? _Not_ his brother?

That means Tōka is the Senju Heir now, not Hashirama; has his brother even _noticed_ Tokonoma-ji neatly sidelining him, or is he just not paying attention and assuming that if anything that fundamental had changed, people would have told him? That is just so _typically_ Anija.

"Treasure?" His wife is watching him; Tobirama shakes his head.

"Just wondering if Anija has even noticed he's been sidelined from the peace talks he so earnestly longs for yet," he jokes weakly. "Tell me more?"

Her lips twitch. "It's a good letter; both letters are very good, actually; I can see Tōka at work in each of them, what with how there are sections that specifically echo our legal code. My Lord-Father's initial reply was _not_ in line with my stated desires, but their second letter skirts around his demands very cleverly." She smiles at his impatient pout, then produces a scroll from her sleeve seals. "Here, read for yourself."

Tobirama eagerly snatches the scroll and opens it; the sight of his grandmother's graceful script is almost too much and he chokes on a sudden, overwhelming swell of homesickness. His wife leaning in to hug him and press a handkerchief into his hands helps, but not as much as it might.

He misses Baachan _so much_. Her lined hands, her salt-water and autumn-afternoon chakra, the osmanthus scent that lingers in her kimono from the specific mix of insect-repelling herbs she favours, as well around her generally; she loves the fragrant scent of the golden blossoms, so has them in tea as well as sweet cakes and even wine when she can get it.

Without chakra to sharpen his nose he cannot catch the hints of her scent that _must_ linger on the paper from the time spent delicately composing this missive, and the absence brings tears to his eyes.

"Treasure?"

"My grandmother wrote this," Tobirama manages thickly, his feelings clogging his throat. "I miss her."

His wife presses a kiss to his throat, right over his carotid artery. "Would it help, Treasure," she murmurs against his skin, "if I were to assure you that in _today's_ letter to the Senju we have established a preliminary cease-fire until the New Year? Should your uncle sign his name under my father's on both documents and send one back, then both clans will be committed to not attacking one-another in the field, not knowingly taking missions that will clash with the other's forces and, if finding oneself with mission goals in conflict with the other's clan, to negotiating and finding a non-antagonistic resolution to both missions."

That does help. Tobirama lets his tears fall, shuddering in his wife's arms until the sudden emotional onslaught passes, then resolutely dries his eyes and turns his attention back to the letter.

Indeed, whatever Tajima's demands were –and Tobirama can _guess_ – this letter does not outright acknowledge any of them, skirting nimbly around any kind of commitment save a preliminary truce and insisting on face to face meetings –with an impartial adjudicator present– for the negotiation of restitution itself. The possibility of a full peace treaty lingers between the lines, never outright addressed but welcomed by implication in multiple places; at one point it is openly acknowledged that the Uchiha Outguard Head and the Senju Clan Head are now kin by marriage, and that such bonds should be honoured.

Tobirama reads the letter three times, lingering over every single character to try and divine as much insight from his grandmother's brushwork as he possibly can. He wants to sit with her over tea, _needs_ to talk to her about so _much_ of what he has experienced over the past weeks and months; her wedding to his grandfather was arranged, not a love-match like Hashirama and Mito's was, and he suddenly _needs_ to know what that felt like.

So much he wants to hear, and to tell.

"If my uncle signs the cease-fire agreement, can I ask my grandmother to visit?" He asks, finally and reluctantly rolling up the letter.

"You grandmother, Treasure?"

"Senju Sunami, formerly of the Uzumaki Clan," Tobirama specifies. "I would… I would very _much_ like to talk to her, over tea."

Izuna nods, eyes serious. "I will write to her myself, once your uncle sends back the signed ceasefire declaration."

No question, no hesitation; Tobirama's chest _aches_.

"Tobirama?" His wife leans in, chasing away a tear with a careful fingertip; Tobirama catches her forearm so he can press slow, tender kisses to her wrist and palm, then to each individual finger.

"Such a gracious wife I have," he murmurs past his rough throat. "So gentle, so tender; so relentless. How can I resist such kindness?"

"Oh, Treasure." Her chakra is cracked right open, revealing raw emotion that is all the more fierce for its lack of nuance; he cannot read its nature, it is too _much_ for that. She _feels_ , and he cannot parse that through his sense of her chakra. Her _physical_ scent on the other hand… that is more telling.

"Will my wife kiss me?" He asks, looking up to meet her eyes then yielding willingly as she physically drags him into her arms and covers his lips with hers. The sharp, almost stinging ache of her chakra against his skin makes him shiver, wrapping his arms around her upper body as she cradles his face in her hands and indulges herself in his mouth, taking his desire for touch and comfort and refashioning it into something more heated.

Tobirama yields further to her advances, toppling over backwards onto the picnic blanket with his wife on top of him in her elegant formal kimono, his thighs sprawling wide as she threads her fingers into his hair and tangles their tongues together, her heartbeat under those pristine layers hammering in time with his.

When she finally pauses to gasp for breath Tobirama is _hot_ , skin tingling under his borrowed clothing and acutely aware of his wife's thigh pressing solidly against his groin. The sun is high overhead, it is the hottest part of the day and it's not _enough_.

"Would _you_ like to be ravished in the persimmon orchard today, Tobirama?" She murmurs, staring squarely into his eyes with passion painting a rosy flush across her cheekbones. Tobirama shudders; he is neither able nor even _interested_ in suppressing his intimately physical reaction to the prospect of being stripped naked for his wife's pleasure.

"Or perhaps," his terrible, _wonderful_ wife continues, voice caressing his ears even as one of her hands slides down his chest to tug teasingly at his hakama ties, "I should simply pin you down and draw this out for longer, sharing kisses and enjoying how you tremble helplessly under me." Her thigh shifts firmly, sliding over his groin, and Tobirama can't stop the gasp that escapes his lips.

"Whatever you like, Izuna," he tells her hoarsely.

The desire burning in her eyes deepens as her lips curve up into a wicked smile. "You are wearing my hakama, Tobirama," she says, tone deceptively light. "I think I'd like to see them stained with your seed."

Tobirama gasps –half in shock, half in sudden vicious lust at the image painted by her words– and she again rubs herself firmly against his groin, bending down over him to nip teasingly at his throat. The pressure of her teeth through his skin sends tremors through his entire body, dancing up and down his spine and shuddering through the pit of his abdomen.

"You don't _have_ to beg," his overwhelming, terrifying and _utterly_ _perfect_ wife croons in his ear, "but I'd enjoy it if you _did_."

"Please," Tobirama blurts out instantly, breathless and shaking and _desperately_ willing, arching his body up towards the offered friction through the silk of his clothing, "Izuna, please, yes, _please_ –"

The delighted, gratified hum in his ear and the heated ripple in her chakra as her teeth dig into his neck again are the last things he remembers clearly for quite some time.


	35. Chapter 35

The bird summons with the ribbons on its ankles signaling a clan-wide gathering is unexpected, and when Tōka arrives at the central meeting area with her battered sparring partners –who should have _known better_ than to talk about her like that if they wanted to keep their bones whole and unbruised– finding that her _father_ has called the meeting is even more so.

He's wearing a black armband over his armour, and Obaasan is standing next to him in mofuku, head bowed. Kaa-san is there too, also in plain black morning garb, and Yagura and Zōden flank them with grave faces, armed and armoured with mourning bands on their arms. Who's dead?

Her uncle is nowhere to be seen; Tōka feels a chill of foreboding as she looks around for Hashirama. Mito is standing off to one side with the other aunties, also dressed in black, but her demeanour is more smug than distressed. Her head is bowed and her face bland, but there's something in the set of her shoulders that says she's very pleased with this outcome.

She spots Ōka-ba and pushes her way through the crowd towards her; Obasan will know, the medics _always_ know.

"Oba-san?"

"Tōka," her aunt hugs her, quick and surprising, then murmurs in her ear, "My oldest brother is dead; murdered. Your father says Shitomi-san did it but I remain unconvinced; come by the morgue later."

"Hai, Oba-san," Tōka says automatically, reeling internally. It's only been _two days_! She'd been planning on borrowing armour from an aunt –Tanka-ba maybe; they have similar builds– and making her Challenge tomorrow or the day after at the very latest, but somebody has beaten her to it and not even bothered to make it legal.

Shitomi isn't here; no doubt dead already, a loose end neatly tied off. Nobody here to naysay her father's story, whatever it may be, and Ōka-ba _already_ doesn't think it's very likely. This is…

Hashirama's right; this _is_ going to dig fissures into the clan. But at least they might all be alive to mend them, in time.

Hashirama appears around a building; Rika-ba corners him at once, and Tōka turns away so as not to witness her cousin's bewildered grief at the loss of his father. Instead she walks up to her mother, who moves sideways so that Tōka can stand between her parents, in the heir position.

 _Her_ father is Clan Head; _she_ is going to inherit the clan, not Hashirama. Hashi could Challenge her for it if he wanted to, but _now_ she can see how no matter how strong her cousin is and how invincible on the battlefield, he'd make a _terrible_ leader for the clan. Maybe if Tobirama was here to back him up he'd do better, but she _knows_ her cousins: Hashi doesn't exactly _listen_ to Tobi unless he feels the situation is more complex than he can cope with. If he thinks he _does_ know what's going on, he _doesn't_ listen.

And Hashirama is _terrible_ with etiquette.

Tōka puts on a calm, solemn face and curses Izuna in her heart. This is _not_ what she wanted! And yet, it's unpleasantly likely that this is what Tobirama's damn twisty-minded Lord-Wife was _hoping_ for.

She's not even _here_ , and _still_ Uchiha Izuna is bending the Senju according to her wishes. Tōka is going to have to put a _lot_ of work in to match that level of political awareness in order to give the Senju _something_ to work with; she's not looking forward to _any_ of it, but at least she'll be able to read all the official documentation in the clan archives now.

Well, probably just most of it; Obaasan can teach her the rest.

* * *

Tōka lets herself into the back door of the morgue, shivering briefly and grateful for her chakra. The seals on the building keep it cool and it's between the medical hall and the temple; convenient for funerals. But it's not a _nice_ place to be, and after her Uchiha sojourn Tōka can't help wondering if the chill is _entirely_ natural. A nice exorcism on the place would be good for her peace of mind.

The morgue's much cleaner than usual; evidently the medics have been making use of the free time granted by the lack of ongoing warfare to have a good thorough scrub of everywhere under their aegis, in preparation for the next round of fighting.

There's always a next round of fighting, after all. Always has been. Not always with the Uchiha, either.

"Over here, Tōka-chan."

Tōka obediently trudges in between the empty stone slabs, stopping next to her aunt. On these two slabs, separated by a vacant one currently occupied by papers and neatly folded plain white clothing for the upcoming burial, are the bodies of her uncle and Shitomi.

Her uncle, headless; Shitomi, in about ten pieces.

"Well, at least there's no doubt about who did Shitomi in," she mutters; the wounds left by Yagura's chain-whip are _highly_ distinctive. A very messy death too; Tōka feels for whoever is having to clean up the mess of blood and viscera that will have been left behind, as well as for whichever poor medic has to piece him back together for burial.

"You say that, Tōka-chan," Ōka-ba says quietly, "but I'm not entirely sure he was _alive_ when Yagura did that."

Oh. Lovely. Another layer of conspiracy; is Yagura covering for her father, or for someone else? Is her _father_ covering for someone else –like her _mother_ maybe– and enlisted Yagura into his scheme?

"And my esteemed uncle?"

" _Was_ alive when he was decapitated," Ōka concedes grudgingly, "but I'm not convinced he would have lived many more moments beyond that unless he was _much_ better at healing himself than he ever let on. Look at his hands."

Tōka looks down; despite the laxity supposedly provided in the immediate aftermath of death, the corpse's fists are clenched. "Poison?"

"All medicines are poisons, Tōka-chan, and we grow too many of them to notice somebody helping themselves if they don't actually raid the processed stores directly." Ōka-ba sighs. "Poison nut flowers are not _much_ less toxic that the seeds themselves, and the strychnine they contain doesn't even have to be eaten; breathed in is enough."

Tōka feels cold. "You think somebody poisoned my uncle." Ōka-ba's brother.

Her aunt bows her head. "My only hope is that it wasn't our mother," she says quietly. "Okaa-sama is a Transportation specialist after all, and her teachings have greatly enhanced my understanding of the body's systems and functions. But fuuinjutsu makes it terribly easy to introduce a foreign element to the body unbeknownst to the victim."

The thought of Obaa-chan killing Butsuma, her _son_ … Tōka feels queasy. It would be so _easy_ for her too, all the more so for her uncle not expecting it of his mother. Fuuinjutsu takes skill and precision, but there are easier ways to poison people. Was her uncle _aware_ of the desperation and violence he had incited by refusing to treat with the Uchiha? Or was he his usual self in assuming that any move against him would be a Challenge and easily put down? "Wasn't Mito-san trying to branch out from her own specialty a bit?"

Ōka-ba nods. "Mito-chan specializes in Containment, or barriers as most people call it. There are apparently some interesting and useful overlaps with Transportation, particularly in the area of sealing scrolls, but I haven't really been following what my mother and my niece-in-law have been getting up to there over their twice-weekly working afternoons."

"So, in theory, Mito could have poisoned Uncle several hours before he started showing symptoms, so as to arrange an alibi for herself."

"In theory," Ōka-ba agrees mildly. "Your mother also has the motive and the means, as well as the good sense to wear someone else's face while achieving her goal."

"Don't remind me." Kaa-san was born a Kurama, and while Tōka is following diligently in her father's footsteps onto the battlefield, her mother has ensured her only daughter knows enough of poisons to neither kill herself while foraging nor be taken unawares while eating on a mission. Tōka hadn't realized most of her cousins _didn't_ get that kind of education until she was old enough to lead on larger missions, and found herself having to save kinsmen's lives _off_ the battlefield as well as on it. Well save their stomachs at least, and then teach them the basics for themselves; she isn't going to cook _for_ them.

"And of course we cannot discount any _other_ clansmen; poison nut is a well-known toxin," Ōka-ba continues tiredly, "and after my brother's latest _idiotic_ choices there are many with a personal grudge. Well, there was honestly no shortage before, but the Uchiha confrontation means that many _could_ have decided this was the perfect moment for revenge, as his death would not have instantly condemned the clan. Quite the reverse, in fact." She sighs. "I am not even sure that the one who did it was an _adult_ ; we teach _children_ about the perils of poison nut, and it is easy enough to taint a cup or bowl before a meal."

Yes, they do teach the children that. However there is also the issue of access; the suspect must be able to get into and out of the Clan Hall's kitchen without creating suspicion. That narrows things down less than it might; Uncle being a widower with no daughters –seeing as Keika disinherited herself– leaves his care and feeding to Obaasan, who has delegated it to a collection of kinswomen whom Mito supervises more directly. Those kinswomen are in turn supported by their own friends, siblings and children; it's a far longer list than it might be.

Given the implication that Shitomi was _also_ poisoned, there might well be more tainted dishware hiding in the cupboards; if whoever did this was young, they might not have thought to clean up after themselves.

"So Otou-san and Yagura might just have walked in on a murder scene and decided to tidy up the narrative, so as to clarify the succession and keep the clan from tearing itself apart looking for the perpetrator." Her clan is not one to promote intellectual rational thought –as Tobi has deplored so often– and it wouldn't do to cause a panic. Though she _will_ have to suggest everything in the Hall's kitchen be thoroughly washed, for her own peace of mind at the very least.

"I am _not_ looking too closely, Tōka-chan," Ōka-ba agrees quietly. "The funeral will be in two days' time and I am sure your father will be writing to the Uchiha as soon as he may, to assure them that we are willing to make reparations for the harm done to Tobirama-kun."

That is almost shamefully reassuring. Tōka really _shouldn't_ feel this glad about her uncle's death, but she's also well aware that the _only_ reason her uncle is dead is that he wasn't willing to negotiate with the Uchiha. If he _had_ been, he'd still be alive.

Not quite killed by his own unreasonable loathing of all things Uchiha, but almost. The irony is as sharply-edged as all the other blades Izuna has proven to keep under her tongue.

* * *

It's raining, her uncle's funeral is tomorrow and Tōka, infuriatingly, finds herself _missing_ the man. She hasn't _liked_ him for a good decade, but he's always been _there_ and the absence is somehow grating.

The burial is tomorrow; today is for mourning privately, for remembering and for commemorating. Hashirama is no doubt with Mito, having sake poured into him as he cries and remembers the father who smiled sometimes and praised his achievements with his mokuton and on the battlefield.

Tōka is sitting with her father, aunts and older cousins, remembering a slightly different man.

"He used to give shoulder rides, when Ranma and Misuma were still around," Kūrinma-ji says hoarsely, taking a large gulp of sake. Kūrinma had been age-mates with Misuma, barely weeks apart in age and completely inseparable until a patch of black ice and a rock in exactly the wrong place had stolen the second-youngest of the children of her uncle's first marriage away. A most inauspicious start to the year that had killed Ranma in the late spring, then Kikuno-ba and the daughter she was trying to bring into the world in the autumn.

"I caught him laughing at you, Misuma and Kyōzoma running rings around Harima when you were seven," Keika says thickly, staring into space. "Nii-san all smug about having been a warrior for a _year_ now, taken down by three _babies_. And Tou-san hiding behind a tree, trying not to laugh too loudly."

Keika had disowned her father after the debacle over Tobirama which drove Kikuno-ba to shun her husband for five years, moving in with Ōka-ba, but that hadn't meant she'd stopped _caring_ about her father and brothers; she'd just needed to save herself from the conflict that tore the family in half and that her step-mother's death so soon after the tentative reconciliation had prevented from ever truly healing.

"He looked at Kaika-nee like he couldn't quite believe she was _real_ , like she was too good to be happening to him," Tōka's father says quietly, staring at the table. "Eight years of _dizzying_ joy, of gentleness and more patience and hope that I ever thought him capable of, even through our father's death, and then," he shakes his head. "He was never the same again. He tried, for Kaika's sons and for Kikuno-nee, even through that terrible fight they had over Tobirama-kun, but when they _all_ died save for Hashirama-kun," he shakes his head. "I don't think he survived that year either, not really."

Rika-ba snorts. "Didn't ever try to get to know his younger sons," she mutters, taking a swallow of her own sake. "Never commented _once_ on Tobirama being flighty about eye-contact, which he made a _big_ fuss over when the boy was two, because he didn't _want_ to see Kikuno-nee's eyes judging him from her favourite son's face."

"Never spoke his wives' names again," her father murmurs, deep voice aching with sorrow. "Got angry when anybody _else_ mentioned them either; I've never talked about Kaika-nee to Hashirama-kun and I should have. But he'd have asked his father about her, and that wouldn't have gone well for _either_ of us."

"No caution and all heart," Ōka-ba says distantly. "Be an excellent medic, like his mother was; makes for a terrible warrior though."

"Like he was going to be allowed to do anything else, with that gift," Rika-ba scoffs. "Or was _ever_ going to ask for something that might have disappointed his father. Well, more than his obsession with peace had already; that's ideological, not practical. Boy's all his father there, not seeing that thinking and talking aren't enough and you have to _do_."

"And whose fault is that?" Ōka-ba asks dryly. Rika-ba sags and takes some yakitori; Butsuma-ji being clan head means everybody's put a lot of effort into mourning him, even though they're probably going to miss the eggs the chickens sacrificed for this meal might have produced later in the year.

Tōka takes some more yakitori as well; no sense in wasting it. Normally they'd be mourning outside with the rest of the clan, but it's really raining hard and the clan shrine isn't big enough. It's not appropriate to ask Hashirama to put up a tree pavilion when _he_ is the primary mourner, so everybody's huddling indoors.

Also they _can't_ use the shrine, because Shitomi is being buried without ceremony today so _his_ family are there burning incense and saying their goodbyes to the 'murderer' of the previous clan head as the current one politely turns a blind eye to their grief.

At least Shitomi didn't have children; his siblings and nieces and nephews are suffering yes, but her father has made it clear the clan is not to hold this against them. His life was sufficient for his 'treason' and retribution will go no further.

It's bad enough that they've lost their family's largest earner; some of those nephews might well get pushed onto the battlefield early if they _don't_ get peace with the Uchiha, provided they even survive whatever restitution Izuna is going to demand. If Tobirama were here he'd be offering them extra training.

Tobirama's _not_ here, but Tōka is Clan Heir now and _she_ can do that. She can even talk to her father about it after the funeral and see if they can maybe make training the older children more organised, what with the clan's warriors no longer being entirely engrossed in missions and training for the battlefield. If they _pay_ those warriors who take the time to impart education, all the better, although Tōka has no idea where the money would come _from_.

Maybe Kaa-san can help. Or Obaasan. She'll ask. It's for the clan's future, after all, so it's _important_.

Maybe with something to do, she'll feel less irritable about missing her uncle at _all_ when his last act was attempting the murder of his own son.

* * *

On the morning of the funeral her father wakes her early.

"Daughter. I need you to help me write to the Uchiha."

"Yes, Tou-san." Her father knows she knows a _lot_ more about the formalities than he does, courtesy of her imprisonment and helping Tobi wrestle with the legal code. Never mind the thrice-cursed etiquette guide; Tōka still _dreams_ about that gods-awful thing. She's tempted to write out those passages just so she can burn them, but the truth is that the information is genuinely _useful._ So she's probably going to end up writing it down to _keep_ , instead. Which stings.

She never _used_ to have nightmares about finding herself at court in her Senju kimono and hakama, standing before the daimyo and horribly aware of being shamefully, insultingly under-dressed.

Her mother brings breakfast to the Clan Hall as Tōka and her father –now the Senju Head– go over wording and proper forms of address, Yagura fetching specific documents from the clan's archive and Obaasan joining them an hour and a half later to help turn the final draft in katakana into proper kanji.

Tōka discovers that some of the characters she learnt from the Uchiha Legal Code are new even to her grandmother; the realisation makes her die inside a little. But by mid-morning the letter is neatly written –third attempt and much scrap paper spent demonstrating the new kanji to Obaasan, who has the neatest hand– so all that is left is delivering it.

"A professional messenger, for the first letter at least," her father says firmly, pressing the clan seal over the edge of the scroll. "Then we shall see, depending on the means the Uchiha choose to deliver a reply."

"So long as it's not the Vengeful Ghost again," Yagura murmurs wryly, making Tōka snort.

"Yes, anything but that." Hopefully it will be a crow delivery; that will give the Senju the precedent to formally send a bird summons without anybody risking their contract.

"Maybe Madara-san will bring it," Kaa-san suggests sweetly, "so you can take tea with him again, daughter."

Tōka groans loudly. "Kaa-san, I said already it _wasn't like that!"_

"You complemented his singing voice, Tōka-chan," her mother says mildly, eyes dancing. "I know what _that_ means, dear; I've always felt your father has a _very_ pleasant voice."

 _Why_ did she tell her mother about Madara's singing voice? Or that he'd kindly indulged her with a discussion on weapon trajectories while Izuna and Tobirama were flirting over breakfast that time? Her mother had _instantly_ picked up that she'd found having broken legs and limited available activities frustrating in more ways than the obvious and expertly coaxed considerably more incriminating details out of her than she'd quite realised she was giving away, then turned around and _teased_ her about them!

It isn't _fair_ to tease! She doesn't even _like_ Madara like that –and he is certainly not remotely interested in her– he just has a very pleasant singing voice. A nice speaking voice too, when he isn't roaring on the battlefield like a lunatic.

Izuna's team-mate Jakuchi has an even nicer speaking voice, deep and _rich_ and, um. Tōka had needed to remind herself very _firmly_ that he was _married_ and also the enemy.

She has _never_ felt like that before in her _life_ ; it was like her body had decided that the physical inactivity combined with being surrounded by near-total strangers meant it was going to drive her _out of her mind_ with lust at random moments carefully chosen for maximum awkwardness. It was also the _worst possible time_ to realise that she ranks attractiveness by voice first, then appearance second.

It had been bad enough _before_ the pillow book, honestly. But Tōka has always been a person to hear story characters talking in her head, and the voices her brain has assigned to certain of the pillow book's main characters is… awkward.

Tobirama's voice is lower and smoother than she'd realised, now she knows what he sounds like when he's not stressed or trying to shout over Hashirama. It's even lower when he's sweet-talking Izuna in the bedroom, and Tōka has been sadly unable to _avoid_ overhearing a _lot_ of that. And so her traitor brain has assigned her _little cousin's voice_ to one of the characters in the pillow book.

At least she'd managed _not_ to tell Kaa-san that part.

"He was respectful, and treated me like a _person_ , not baggage," she says again. "Even though I was stuck with two broken legs, and he took me seriously as a warrior despite the likelihood of my never fighting ever again hanging over me. I can appreciate that – _and_ his singing voice– and _not_ be attracted to him."

"Of course you can, dear."

Tōka growls and leaves the room to find Tokyōma. Her little brother at least agrees _completely_ that being respected by someone strong despite evident personal weakness gives you a warm feeling that is _nothing_ to do with physical desire. _Or_ the person in question _also_ having a very pleasant speaking voice.

* * *

It's a bit painful really, that it took being abducted and stuck in a comfortable but unrelenting confinement for two months with broken legs and then escaping in stolen clothes for her to understand her little brother better. Tōka feels like a terrible big sister; Tokyōma was difficult for her to relate to, and so she all but abandoned him in favour of her warrior cousins.

He is now much _less_ hard to understand; enforced helplessness and watching Tobirama show different facets of himself to placate and please his wife –who has absolute power of life and death over him even now– has taught her _much_. Tokyōma's wariness when she started a conversation with him at the dinner table on her first day back in the house had _hurt_ , but she's apologised repeatedly for her stupidity since then, so things are a bit better. She's missed her little brother.

Tōka can't focus on a spar right now, not when she is on tenterhooks waiting for a reply to the letter to the Uchiha, so she is sitting in her little brother's workroom at the far end of the Medical Hall, whiling the afternoon away watching him make salves, poultices and medicines. Being handed a mortar and pestle and being told 'grind that' is something she can do while her mind is entirely elsewhere, so it's even productive. Feeling useful helps.

Her brother's also a good listener, and unlike their mother does _not_ tease her over her recent and uncomfortable realisation that she is attracted to men with pleasant voices. Well, not _excessively_ ; he wouldn't be Tokyōma if he didn't tease at _all_ , but he keeps it light and actually _funny_ , and doesn't insinuate things about Madara or the other Uchiha who precipitated this unfortunate revelation.

Instead her menace of a little brother is teasing her by suggesting she buy a ticket to a theatre production, so she can find a handsome singer to tumble into bed with.

"Or just to enjoy the voices, Nee-san," he adds cheekily, ducking her half-hearted swipe. "Much cheaper than paying an oiran for a 'private performance' after all, so nobody can accuse you of being extravagant with clan funds when catering to your sexual preferences."

"Oh shut up you," Tōka grumbles, grinding whatever bitter thing her brother gave her this time into paste. "Don't think I didn't notice you batting your eyelashes at Mito during your latest calligraphy lesson; got a thing for redheads, baby brother? Or is it that pregnant women make you hot under the collar?"

Tokyōma kicks her stool. "Shut _up_ , Nee-chan!"

Tōka grins. "You really think she hasn't noticed? Give me something to work with or I'll convince her to let you down gently, Otōto."

"Do _not!"_ he squawks, jabbing a finger at her. "It's just, she knows so _much_ about fuuinjutsu and can do all _kinds_ of cool stuff and I didn't _know!_ Nobody in the clan even _cares_ , she's just Hashirama-nii's wife to them, but she's _way_ smarter than he is _and_ I bet she could be just as scary on the battlefield if she could be bothered."

"And you think the red hair is pretty," Tōka insists wickedly.

Tokyōma glares sullenly. "And her hair is pretty." He agrees grudgingly, grumpy at being put on the spot.

"Well if we all survive the week, I'm _sure_ Tou-san won't mind sending you to Uzushio for a bit," Tōka teases. "A nice alliance marriage into the new line of inheritance, to honour our coastal cousins."

"Oh stuff it." He doesn't actually _object_ though, so Tōka makes a mental note to suggest it later.

If they _get_ a 'later.'

It's still a good thought, she reminds herself firmly. If her brother has children then the pressure on _her_ to marry –as a Clan Heir should– will be lessened. Bad enough that various warrior cousins are going to be eyeing her as the 'easy' way to seize leadership of the clan, no Challenge required…

"Do you miss Butsuma-oji?" Tokyōma asks abruptly, face averted as he carefully dices a bundle of roots.

"I miss who he was when we were small," Tōka replies quietly, thinking back to the short, awkward funeral service that took place immediately after lunch, followed by the public reading of the Fire Daimyo's latter of congratulation over Tobirama's marriage. Not once is the word 'concubine' mentioned, either the regular version or the Uchiha variant that denotes a male concubine, and Kurahashi-daimyo-sama actually _expressed_ his approval of the match as a means of 'bringing an end to the longstanding differences that have plagued both your clans.' He also signed the letter personally, which makes her uncle's murder attempt against Tobirama all the more bafflingly unreasonable.

Unless he thought Tobirama got married as step one in an evil plot to become Senju clan head or something, which is so not _remotely_ Tobirama as to be hysterical. And disappointing, if that is indeed what moved her uncle to murder.

"I don't miss the man he became when Hashi, Tobi, Tama and Wara moved into the Clan Hall after Kikuno-ba died," Tōka continues, carefully setting the mortar and pestle on the counter. "The man he was before would not have dressed a seven-year-old in armour and made him run missions, then claimed his death was 'in the service of the clan'."

Kawarama's death still hurts. She misses the little menace; despite his Senju face and cheer he'd been all Hatake in his elemental nature and he'd danced in the woods the same way Kikuno-ba did, erratic swaying and irregular steps like a drunken nature spirit.

Itama had been a spiteful little mud-monster with far too much of his father's temperament, but he'd still been _kin_. Nobody _deserves_ to die at eight, and losing Tama right after Wara had almost broken Tobi. She'd thought for years it _had_ broken him, but Izuna had somehow coaxed the real Tobi out of hiding again with boring texts, expensive silks and daily fish.

The regular sex possibly helped too; Tōka had thought she understood her little cousin before their abduction, but this whole marriage thing has made it clear that actually she doesn't have a clue. She's missed so _much_ though assumptions and ignorance and there's so much more she _needs_ to learn.

"That man _did_ try to kill Tobirama when he was two though."

Tōka sighs. "Yes, he _did_ ," she agrees, "because he didn't know any _better_. But Kikuno-ba set him straight, and they _reconciled_ , Tokyōma. If she'd lived–" She cuts herself off there. What-ifs aren't going to make things better.

"But she died," Tokyōma says quietly as he empties the mortar, "and he went right back to doing all the things she couldn't stand, but worse."

"He did," Tōka agrees, suddenly terribly tired. Her brother lets the silence drag; the quiet knock at the door startles both of them.

"Come in!" Tokyōma calls; the door opens revealing Zōden, their father's cousin. His wife is another Uzumaki, although Kishimi is a fisherman's daughter and has neither interest nor aptitude for fuuinjutsu. She _is_ however very good at mathematics and throws a magnificent punch.

"We've received a reply," Zōden-ji says without preamble. "Your father wants you both to come hear it."

That doesn't sound good at _all_.

* * *

It isn't good. Firstly the letter's from _Tajima_ , who Tōka did not once see during her imprisonment but heard enough about second-hand from Izuna to clearly convey that the man would very _much_ enjoy grinding the Senju to dust under his sandals.

The tone of the letter does indeed convey a certain degree of malicious glee, although the _content_ is actually begrudgingly businesslike. The _problem_ is that her late and definitely unlamented uncle has sunk the Senju into a _very deep hole_ with his poorly-conceived murder attempt, and Tajima's terms are coldly, brutally reasonable.

They will also thoroughly destroy the Senju as an independent entity, or even a nominally independent entity, while plunging them into debt for several generations, possibly forever. Yet are still _reasonable_ , because he makes it very clear that if they agree to these terms he will _not_ feel the need to make a complaint to the daimyo on his daughter's behalf, and is prepared to put that into writing as part of the negotiations.

"Your thoughts," Tou-san requests, looking Tōka in the eye.

"Izuna was not involved in writing this," Tōka says instantly, "and while _technically_ he is allowed to negotiate on her behalf as Outguard Head, _practically_ she is the one wronged, so should be involved in dictating terms. And while she may not know about our having written to negotiate _yet_ , if we stall she _will_ find out and the terms will be better."

"Because she's smitten with Tobirama?" Zōden asks dryly.

"No, because she's _brilliant_ with economics and wants peace because then her clan can stop wasting money and lives fighting us," Tōka retorts sharply. "She has the means to make her clan _filthy_ rich within the _decade_ , so long as she doesn't have to fight us off every step of the way. She also knows her politics, so recognises that grinding us into the dirt will just breed resentment in a generation or two and make the feud start up again, because we won't have anything to lose. She wants us to _benefit_ from peace, because that way we won't _break_ it."

"Also, enough generations of prosperous peace and we'll _lose_ our warrior traditions, like most of Fire Country's land-owning nobility have," Tokyōma points out. "They all used to be samurai, and now who's left? The Akimichi, who are more shinobi than samurai now. The only real warrior samurai in Fire are from minor clans who owe service to more influential families, and they mostly serve as officers in the daimyo's military."

"Still wishing to reduce the threat we pose to her clan then," Tou-san says pensively.

"Obviously," Tōka agrees; of _course_ Izuna wants that. "But given she _is_ rather attached to Tobirama, we can still do well out of it; peace will reduce the threat _they_ pose to _us_ as well."

"Your suggestion then."

"Suggest that such negotiations are best done face to face with a respected third party to arbitrate, and request a cease-fire for however long you think it will take to first agree on someone, approach them and get them to agree, plus the negotiation period," Tōka says immediately, paraphrasing the relevant section of the Uchiha Legal Code for resolving inter-clan disputes. "Or suggest a preliminary truce period that will at least get you _into_ the negotiation period, with the option to extend 'at the arbitrator's recommendation' later if necessary. Then we at least have a formal ceasefire, and Uchiha Tajima has to defend his demands not only in front of his daughter, but also some other high-ranking member of the shinobi nobility who is invested in seeing our feud put to rest for good."

"Making it about at least _looking_ committed to the process, not just extracting 'justice' for his new son-in-law," Kaa-san says dryly. "Yes, that _would_ work. Who do you think the Uchiha will turn to, daughter?"

Tōka thinks about it. There's not _much_ in the way of shinobi nobility, after all; the Akimichi, the Hyūga and the Uchiha are all she's aware of in Fire. "The Aburame are also kuge, apparently," she admits, "and they're also _outside_ Fire, so wouldn't have an agenda with the Daimyo like the Akimichi would. There's also the Hyūga, but the Uchiha Legal Code made it clear there's longstanding friendly terms between their clans so we could argue against them on that basis."

"So claim that this is far _too_ important to arrange by letter, request formal face to face meetings with arbitrators, suggest the Aburame," her father summarises. "And write to the Aburame ourselves, requesting they arbitrate, and say that we have done so."

Showing Tajima that he can't cow them into letting him walk over them, while also showing due respect for the process and commitment to actual resolution. "Yes, that will work; how did the letter arrive?"

"By crow summons," Yagura volunteers quietly.

Tōka nods. "Okay then, that means we can _reasonably expect_ that if we send a reply _back_ by bird, our messenger will not be inconvenienced. But a summons should still probably wait on the far side of the river and hail the crows _first;_ they overlook the Uchiha compound constantly, so then even if the bird isn't allowed in, the letter can change hands and be passed on to a suitable person in sight of our messenger."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Zōden notes mildly.

"I spent _two months_ with broken legs, at the mercy of Tobirama's determination to fully comprehend and memorise the Uchiha Legal Code," Tōka retorts wryly. "That involved a _lot_ of theoretical scenarios, _especially_ after he realised the Uchiha are kuge. I think my reading speed has _doubled_ and I know several hundred new kanji."

Zōden winces very slightly.

"A good strategy," Tou-san decides. "Daughter, help me draft a letter to the Aburame; Okaa-san, please can you fetch what you can find on their clan from the Archives; Zōden will assist you. Wife, please can you speak to the summoners, so they can put a suitable request to their allies; I will not _demand_ this, not so soon after Sunlight-On-Water's death, but a volunteer would be appreciated."

"What about me, Tou-san?" Tokyōma asks challengingly as the room empties. Father watches him steadily from the far side of the table, hands still held behind his back. He wants to help? Then again, being suddenly thrust into the spotlight as son of the Clan Head –and _not_ the heir– means her little brother will be facing pressures on his own. Being visibly involved in this very important negotiation will silence the gossips suggesting that he is _unworthy_ of the clan name, so should be stripped of it.

"What do you believe will help, Tokyōma-kun?"

Her brother frowns. "I'll talk to Yuta-ba about formalwear," he decides. "We'll have to make a good showing, and that's going to be expensive since we don't have anything on the kind of level Nee-san's been talking about and we need to source it as soon as possible."

Father nods. "That's an excellent thought, Son; thank you."

Tokyōma smiles, bright, wary and delighted, and then also sees himself out to set about his self-appointed task.

Yagura is still standing at her father's shoulder, quiet and dutiful. Tōka wonders again just _how_ involved he is in the wilful conspiracy surrounding her uncle's death, then puts the matter out of her mind; they have more urgent things to worry about.

* * *

Hashirama potters around his shed, watering his bonsai and checking on each of the miniature trees so as to see which ones need their roots trimming so they don't become pot-bound. A few of them do –he's not been paying them much attention lately, what with his fortnight-long mission then Tōka's return and, and everything _else_ since then– so he lays them out on the table in the morning sunlight and sets about gently uprooting them, trimming them, brushing the wounds with a cleansing solution so they don't rot and then carefully replanting them, one tree at a time.

It's the young growing stages, like most of his current bonsai are in, that are the most delicate ones. A young bonsai isn't quite used to being small; they want to _grow_ , still yearning for height and depth and breadth. It's not until they're older and more settled into themselves that they become easier to care for, simply requiring a little careful pruning or trimming every now and then. These young bonsai may yet die, unwilling or somehow unable to adapt to the limitations imposed upon them. Hashirama does his best, but sometimes the best thing he can do is give up and plant the stunted tree outdoors somewhere, giving it a boost with his chakra so it can root itself well and reach upwards towards the sun.

He doesn't usually have so many young trees to keep an eye on at once, but the ongoing lack of conflict with the Uchiha –and his own misery over Tobirama's absence then presumed-death– led him to over-commit a little, and then his father sending him off for two weeks means he has a lot of work to catch up on.

Bonsai aren't like paperwork; if he leaves them to their own devices for a few weeks they've changed in his absence, sometimes beyond the point that he can work with. When that happens he has to adjust his plans or abandon them altogether in favour of shaping what the tree has done in his absence, or else cut away the growth and hope the bonsai will recover.

Thankfully the little wisteria cutting is still in the rooting stage, not the growing and shaping stage; he couldn't _bear_ it if he had to cut it down and it didn't survive the process. The grumpy old tree has _never_ yielded a viable cutting before, so Hashirama really cherishes this one.

It _still_ might not agree to let him bonsai it, but either way he's giving it to Tobi, so his little brother can have wisteria – _their_ wisteria– even though he's living in the Uchiha compound now. It probably won't flower for a decade or so –wisteria generally doesn't, needing settling time– but it will get there eventually, and then it will be there forever, or just about.

The little willow requires rather vigorous trimming, but Hashirama isn't worried about it; willow is stubborn and intrepid, so it will survive this. The umbrella-pine he picks up next however might not do so well; pines are fussy and much slower-growing, so need much longer to recover and are more likely to struggle or fail.

He was thorough with the willow; he is more cautious about trimming the pine. The next tree is a snowbell sapling; he's never tried to bonsai one before, so he's slow and cautious with it, paying careful attention to how it responds to the process and trying to do as little as he can. He can always trim it again later; if he overdoes it now, the vibrant life in his hands will wither and fade away.

The last miniature tree that needs its roots thinning is a mock orange, which is more amenable to the bonsai process generally because it's not actually a _tree_ ; more of a shrub. Hashirama started growing this one the day after Tobirama went missing –was abducted– because the vassals call _this_ shrub 'tobira', written with the same character as his brother's name. He has no idea _why_ , but it felt like a prayer to have a little tobira safe and well cared-for in his bonsai shed while his brother was missing.

Except now, having had time to really _think_ about what Tōka said about his little brother's new situation, the bonsai tobira doesn't feel so very good a thing to keep. Tobirama's being kept in a tiny house, forced to conform to it with his chakra cut down to nothing, and while it's _good_ that he's survived this long, Hashirama doesn't think that it's good to bonsai _people_. And yet… it kind of sounds like that's what Izuna is doing to Tobirama. And it's _working_.

He sets the tobira firmly aside; he doesn't want to bonsai it anymore. Hopefully Mito can find a place for it in her garden, where it can grow to its full size and flourish properly.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will no longer be updating on Saturdays.

It takes a further three days to get the ceasefire signed; his uncle wants Tōma to be released as a sign of goodwill, and Tajima demands additional concessions in return for his 'generosity' in allowing a would-be assassin to evade justice. The Senju end up paying the Uchiha five times the teenager's armoured weight in good rice against his release, on the condition that if he is caught armed and armoured on Uchiha land at any point in the next twenty years, Tajima has the right of summary execution.

It is a _lot_ of rice for a widow with three other children, but well within the means of the wider clan, especially now the Senju have six fewer grown warriors to feed, considering his own absence and the deaths he knows about. The vassals grow enough that his uncle can _easily_ let that much of their stores go, especially when the year has thus far been kind to the fields. So Tokonoma-ji pays the two hundred and fifty kilos of rice demanded and Tōma is released, all his armour, weapons and effects with him.

Tobirama suspects his uncle will try to get Tōma apprenticed in some kind of civilian craft after this, just to make sure not to give Tajima an excuse. His cousin may lose the right to the Senju name, but he'll be _alive_ and that's what really matters. Tōma may not agree with that just yet, but Tobirama knows Ajisai-ba most _certainly_ will. And if they have peace, then a craft may well bring in money more steadily than shinobi work would.

He doesn't miss his father, once the shock has passed. He didn't even know the man was dead until after he was buried –because he _will_ have been buried quickly, so the clan could move on– and all he can feel is relief. What does that say about him?

What does it say about his father?

His geta have arrived, and he now has a bathing yukata resist-printed with large round fans that he very _much_ enjoyed Izuna's reaction to when he first put it on upon emerging from the bathhouse, and with how each day this week has been hotter than the last, he is sure he will soon be receiving the summer kimono he sold his pride for.

He is not going to be able to avoid telling Baachan about that; he is sure she will laugh at him. At least, Izuna's tastes being what they are, he can console himself that he did not sell himself cheaply.

Izuna still has not explained why she keeps tripping over calling him 'husband.' However given how she keeps sliding into pensive silence when they are alone together and how long she spends composing at her koto, writing and rewriting tunes until she is satisfied with them as he sits across the room and writes his notes and commentaries –occasionally even indulging himself with art– he does not press. He promised her the time to order her thoughts, and he will grant it. She is taking her time in considering her words, and he would sooner take considered words than hasty ones.

She _has_ however written to Baachan. Yesterday mid-morning, immediately after the announcement of the signing of the ceasefire –which turned into an impromptu festival with paper streamers and fried foods by the early afternoon– his wife asked him what he wanted her to write in her invitation.

"Whatever you want to write," he had told her. "You are inviting her, not me; I know what _I_ would write, but you are not me."

He's still not entirely sure what Izuna took away from that, given the flash of realisation that briefly illuminated her chakra, but she kissed him and assured him as they finally fell into bed that evening that the letter had been sent, so he's letting it lie. He's sure Baachan will tell him _all_ about the letter when she visits.

Kiso-kun will be spending this afternoon with Moreya-san again, but the toddler is showing signs of increased comfort and confidence now, in that he threw his first tantrum yesterday and _refused_ to be babysat by Midori-chan when there was a festival going on. Izuna had then for the first time proved that yes, she _does_ have considerable experience with small children, and walked up and down the engawa with the wailing boy in her arms, singing and swaying until he finally settled then informed him calmly that he _would_ be spending the afternoon with Midori-chan. _However_ , if he asked, his step-father might come _with_ him.

Kiso had instantly turned pleading eyes on Tobirama, whose resolve had crumpled like wet washi. It had been a little nerve-racking to be surrounded by celebrating and increasingly drunk Uchiha when he didn't have any chakra to defend himself with, but Tobirama had reminded himself firmly of the shattered sword he had woken to on the night of the assassination attempt; yes, he _is_ bound, but he is also protected.

Nobody raised a hand to him, and he had a great deal of festival food pressed _on_ him. Kiso ran out of energy a few hours in and had to be carried, but any attempt to _leave_ the celebrations elicited more whining so Tobirama ended up sitting on a fence near an impromptu music performance, being casually included as drinks and food were passed around and learning new songs.

The Uchiha musical repertoire he is aware of now extends significantly beyond the profoundly inappropriate: he now knows five ridiculous drinking songs, one of which references some long-gone bandit or other, a dozen songs for dancing to and a range of silly children's songs, as well as several new love songs.

Politely implied love songs, as distinct from the shamelessly explicit ones from the kitsune wedding party. He's still not sure how they could sing those without tripping over the words in utter mortification.

Midori-chan took advantage of having an adult present to offload various small children on him as and when they tired themselves out; by the end of the afternoon he had _all_ of her other charges lingering in his general vicinity, freeing up the young lady herself to enjoy the festival with her same-age friends. Tobirama didn't mind –if this had been a planned festival she would have been free to do as she wished, and it was very responsible of her to not simply abandon her commitments in the face of the festivities– and despite having to break up a few arguments between tired, fretful four-year-olds, he did genuinely enjoy himself; having an umbrella to hide from the sun under definitely helped there though. Three tired children under six, not including Kiso, was however perfectly manageable.

He's not entirely sure where Izuna went, but when he returned to the house with Kiso drooling on the towel spread over his shoulder to protect his fish kimono she was absent, returning about half an hour later with a box of chicken meatballs along with plenty of pickles, yellow sticky rice –cooked with turmeric and a few other spices apparently– and a generous serving each of soft, tasty warabimochi dusted with soya flour and macha.

Tobirama doubts very much that the bracken-starch mochi were being served to the wider clan, but Izuna was laughingly coy on their provenance so he accepted the seasonal treat in the spirit it was intended, then after Kiso was asleep initiated some private celebrations for just himself and Izuna in return.

When he wakes the next morning, to Kiso fast asleep and his wife chastely kissing his cheek on her way to bathe and dress, Tobirama hopes that Baachan will write back soon. He very much wants to see her; he has so much as to ask and to share.

* * *

Tobirama eats his breakfast wearing his fan-print yukata; today is again hotter than yesterday was at this hour, so it will likely only get worse until the June rains arrive and provide a little relief.

Kiso is bouncy and keen to babble at length about everything done yesterday, as well as to demand attention; another good sign, but much as Tobirama would _like_ to lean into the distraction provided, he feels rather ambivalent about doing so. He's spent over a week very deliberately trying _not_ to think about anything less immediate than the next hour, but now the Uchiha and Senju have an official cease-fire with the promise of a full treaty to be negotiated later, all the things he was avoiding have come rushing back like floodwaters along a riverbed briefly dammed.

His sleep so far has been free of dreams, but he knows himself too well to assume that will last; he has pushed a great many things aside for 'later,' and 'later' has arrived.

Well, Kiso is still a priority; 'later' will just have to wait until the afternoon.

"Treasure?"

Tobirama looks up from his breakfast. "Yes, Izuna?"

His wife smiles at him, small and faintly wicked. "What kind of outfit would you like to wear, Tobirama? Something simple for indoors, something a little more fine for walking around and exploring the clan compound or a painted visiting kimono?"

Ah, evidently at least _some_ of his promised bribery is ready for him to receive. Time to discover what his pride is worth.

"Out! Out wif Keifu!" Kiso squeals, bouncing excitedly. Tobirama smiles at the toddler.

"Well, it seems I will be needing a kimono I can wear to wander around the clan compound with Kiso-kun." That will at least let him address one of those lingering curiosities he's been ignoring, which is investigating which crafts it is that the Uchiha pursue and how lucrative they are. It's not a question he can answer in a single day –or even a single month– but the sooner he gets started the more he will learn. Hopefully he will learn things the Senju can benefit from, if the ceasefire lasts long enough for peace to be established.

"In that case, the only question is whether my beloved spouse would prefer a bright outfit or a more sober one," Izuna says teasingly.

Tobirama considers his options; whichever he asks for, he will certainly receive the other one later regardless. "Bright," he decides. That way he can get it over with and is able to look forward to the other one.

His wife beams at him, then produces a trio of washi-wrapped packages –two kimono-sized, one much smaller– from nowhere; Kiso claps at the conjuring trick, prompting Izuna to bow theatrically with many flourishes as she sets the stack of gifts at Tobirama's elbow. This of course elicits a delighted giggling fit, which Izuna plays into with further exploitation of her sleeve seals, appearing to produce a loquat from behind the toddler's ear and acting terribly shocked about it.

"Kiso-kun! Are you _sure_ you are washing behind your ears properly? Look! There _must_ be a loquat tree growing there!"

Kiso shakes his head, giggling madly. "Nooo! I wash! I wash!"

"Really? Look, _another_ loquat! How can this be! Kiso-kun you have so much dirt behind your ears there are _trees_ growing there!"

"Nooo!" The toddler falls over giggling, hands covering his ears as Izuna pokes lightly at his head, the loquats set aside beside her empty bowl. "No tees!"

Tobirama smiles into his katemeshi as he finishes, then sets the bowl down and moves his dubiously-earned parcels in front of him. Izuna notices –of course she does– and stops prodding Kiso, instead picking him up and holding him against her chest so the toddler can see what he's doing.

Well, once he's stopped giggling, that is. Tobirama doesn't wait though and opens the top package, which is also the smallest one.

It is a length of the same sky-blue and ice-white wavy damask as the lining of his crab obi, but shorter and unlined with neatly hemmed ends; the promised unlined summer obi. It comforts him that the colour scheme of what he is being given will not be _too_ bright, as it is evidently intended to match either the dawn palette or the summer sky palette she is already dressing him from. The obi cords tucked in with it are a pleasantly golden green shade like summer grass, suggesting this particular outfit has a more summery palette. As of course it would.

The next parcel is a nagajuban, except that unlike the previous nagajuban he has been given it is both linen and colourfully printed. The pattern is of hanashōbu irises, but cleverly done in a fresh onion green so the coloured parts are just the leaves, creating the flowers by absence and little spots of lemon yellow that mark the bases of the iris petals. It also extents over the collar, creating an attractively textured effect.

"This is very lovely," he says. "I hadn't realised _patterns_ were also an option here."

Izuna grins at him. "Very popular among wealthy townsfolk; sumptuary laws mean they can't wear certain colours and designs on the _outside_ , but linings and under-layers are another matter entirely. Nobility are not so constrained, so generally only bother in summertime when layering is limited and thus so are the options to flaunt one's status."

"So noted." Tobirama refolds the nagajuban and takes the last parcel onto his lap. Izuna said it was 'bright,' so time to find out _how_ bright exactly.

Hopefully it's not pink.

Unfolding the washi reveals that prayer, at least, is answered: the unlined gauze kimono contained within is _not_ pink. It is instead a cheerful orange-tinted golden yellow, one which he is mostly sure is the colour made by dying with gardenia fruit. The sleeves are winged, but not _that_ much compared to some of his other kimono, and the upper half of it appears unadorned beyond the damask pattern of curving grass that is only visible if he turns it to catch the light just so.

Encouraged, he shakes it out fully –then stills.

"This," he says carefully, " _is_ a tomesode, isn't it." Only patterned across the section below the waist, going from left front panel around the back to finish on the hidden right-hand front panel; it's _definitely_ a tomesode.

"They are quite popular for summer wear, Treasure," Izuna says mildly, "and I went easy on the sleeves, just for you."

"My Lord-Wife has my gratitude," Tobirama says dryly, carefully pulling the silk taut so as to properly display the design. The main difference from his aster visiting wear is in the shape of the colour gradient; tomesode are generally dyed on the bolt then stitched together, while hōmongi are lightly tacked together when painted so that the pattern can be continuous over the seams. Thus, this tomesode is actually dyed symmetrically, the light eggshell section with its curling cloud-like border fairly even all the way across the lower panels.

If it were just that, Tobirama wouldn't mind. But Izuna has got around the 'five silk gauze summer kimono, three painted' by having this _unpainted_ kimono be embroidered with green reeds and silvery-white plover, the reeds in artistic little uneven patches as though emerging above the 'misty' background and the plover soaring above it in ragged lines.

It is very lovely. He will look very good in it, even though the colours are very _much_ pushing the limit for what is considered appropriate for grown men. Then again, maybe the rules are a bit different for concubines; he will have to check the etiquette book, along with the dye reference guide.

It is also orange, or close enough; a colour he now knows is one of his wife's favourites. That has… certain other implications. The thought of his wife dressing him in colours _she_ likes, as well as colours _he_ likes is… not displeasing, actually. To know that his wife has gifted this to him because seeing him in it will bring her pleasure, even such a minor pleasure as his wearing a colour that brings her joy.

"This is very fine," he says, "and I will enjoy wearing it today." He quickly folds it up again, away from Kiso's grubby fingers. "I will go and dress while you make sure Kiso is properly clean for our outing."

Izuna grins. "Ah yes, time to uproot those loquat trees from behind your ears, Kiso-kun!"

"Nooo!" the toddler wiggles out of Izuna's lap and flees, hands over his ears; Tobirama's wife gives chase, cackling loudly.

Tobirama smiles to himself, picks up his new clothes and goes to change. Izuna has already brushed his hair –and he hers– so it will not take him so very long to be ready to go out.

* * *

Dressed for summer in his very fine new gauze kimono, Tobirama pauses over his fans. He has two, and while he knows the art on the inner side of each is from classical literature –because it says so in the little caption on each– he did not actually recognise either image. He is –' _was'_ is perhaps more accurate now– a shinobi; he has never had the time for plays or literature. But he has at least _heard_ of the tale of Dorakyura, the blood-sucking ghost lord who through trickery escaped his lavish tomb to prey upon the living, and was defeated by an exorcist and a group of friends native to the city where the ghost had taken up residence, though not without loss.

The story has been made into a set of plays, which are a popular subject for prints. This image is from the tragedy of the cycle, the beautiful maiden dead by mysterious means not long before her wedding and transformed into a blood-sucking ghost herself, the print on the folding fan depicting the moment she is revealed to her distraught betrothed as the exorcist protects him.

The title on the rigid fan is however unfamiliar to him and the image itself reveals a possible reason why: three well-dressed women in a walled garden, giggling amongst themselves. He's not sure who 'the three concubines of the Prince of Nanupin' are –or even where 'Nanupin' _is_ – or why they are contemplating General Kana Akira, but the story or play is evidently _about_ General Kana Akira, seeing as the title mentioned in the caption is 'The General Stands Above Me'.

It's a nice print though, well-detailed in terms of the women, their dress and their setting, which is a lavish garden. The other side of the rigid fan is simply a classic monochrome blue design of a willow tree beside a bridge, artistic but not interesting. That is the side that others see; the colourful print is so _he_ has something to look at.

He'll have to ask about that, to see if there's a book he can read. He's unlikely to be able to see a play, after all. Even a short one would last half a day, and adding travel times to that when he can only move at civilian speeds puts theatre firmly outside the day-trip range. If Izuna will even allow him off clan lands at all.

Tobirama takes up the rigid fan again, tucking it into his obi knot behind his back; the subject of the folding fan is a tragedy, and he's not really in the mood to appreciate a tragedy right now.

Kiso is bouncing eagerly by the iori when he emerges. "Keifu good!" He chirps, then dashes forwards for a hug, pausing half a step away to show off his freshly-washes palms. "Keen hans!"

"Yes, your hands are clean, "Tobirama agrees fondly, reaching down to accept the impending hug. Kiso embraces his thigh, then takes several long moments to poke at the embroidery level with his nose before remembering he wanted to be carried and raising his hands.

"Up!"

Tobirama pokes the toddler's armpits playfully –eliciting a squeak– then sweeps the little boy up into a proper embrace. Then he teasingly checks behind the toddler's ears. "No more loquats, I see."

"Keifuuuuuu," Kiso complains, leaning back and pouting at him. Tobirama kisses his hair.

"What, I can't tease my– my boy?" _He almost said_ _ **son**_ _oh he's_ _ **never**_ _getting out of this, is he_.

Well, he _did_ promise.

Kiso's face lights up and he slumps forwards again, burying his face in Tobirama's neck. "Like Keifu. Go out?"

"I need to put you in the carrier so I can have my hands free, but after that yes, we're going out." The carrier's in the genkan, so that's easy enough. "Where's Izuna-san?" He knows exactly where she is –can feel her there– but asking will make Kiso feel more included.

"In 'tudy," Kiso mumbles into his neck. Tobirama nuzzles his hair again.

"Thank you, Kiso-kun." He walks through the open shōji into the front room facing the genkan, then slides open the fusuma of his wife's study.

His wife is wearing a kimono of fine silk crepe in a dull, pale blue-purple, intricately printed with hanging willow fronds and white herons flying across them. The nagajuban collar and cuffs peeking out are white-green with hints of a fine pattern in deep, brilliant blue and her obi is a single layer of unohana white damasked with fish and watery swirls in shades of blue, grey and soft orange.

She looks very subdued, and also very lovely.

"Tobirama," she says, setting her reading aside and getting to her feet. He watches her cross the room into arm's reach, then steps back from the threshold so that once she is _in_ arm's reach he can embrace her and press light kisses to her face.

"Will there be problems if I wander around randomly and talk to craftspeople?" He asks quietly, because asking is wise and Izuna is yet to lead him astray.

His wife hums, fingertips barely brushing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck and making him shiver. "Please continue to avoid the smithing district," she requests, tone and chakra faintly regretful, "but otherwise you should not have issues. All I ask is that you please walk away from hostility when you find it; many of my kin still hurt and you are not who they are angry with, not truly."

Tobirama leans back so his wife can see his sceptically raised eyebrow; he has killed _many_ Uchiha in his lifetime. Some of whom were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As she and he are now both well aware of.

She smiles tiredly at him. "You were a child obeying your father, and then a warrior under orders; Uchiha consider twenty to be the age beyond which a man –or indeed a woman– must critically consider their choices and be sure to act according to what they think best, but neither one of us is far past that and you had barely a month of true adulthood before I stole you."

That is–

She raises a hand against his frown and open mouth; "You don't have to _agree_ , Treasure. But accept that this _is_ our cultural position, so those who blame _you_ purely because you are in their reach act _wrongly_. Understandably perhaps, but no less wrongly for that. We who fight all do so under orders, and so the burden of the feud falls on those who _give_ us those orders as much as upon we who choose to obey them. I'm sure you've noticed how much I bend _my_ orders, Tobirama; my father allows it because I achieve the goals he sets for me and hold true to Clan Law, and also profit the clan in other ways. But I also have kinsmen who are not so creative, and _will_ go out of their way to kill Senju if they possibly can. And my father knows this, yet allows it."

Tobirama wrestles with this new idea, closing his mouth, opening it again and then thinking better of it. It is a merciful perspective, softening the wrongs he has committed if not quite excusing them, but it doesn't change the _facts_. Just people's attitude to them. "I will think on your words," he says eventually.

"Take as much time as you need, Treasure." Izuna then leans down to kiss Kiso's hair. "And have a fun walk with your stepfather, Kiso-kun. I will be waiting at lunchtime to hear all about it."

"Hn," Kiso agrees, not moving. Tobirama decides the conversation is over, kisses his wife one last time and then heads for the genkan.

Time to do some exploring.

* * *

It is more accident than design which leads Tobirama's feet to a mulberry orchard and a selection of women picking leaves to feed to the silkworms in a nearby barn; he wasn't _looking_ for them, but the munching susurrus is a landmark he can navigate by. Kiso takes a sudden interest in the activity –and the singing– demanding to be let down and being swiftly co-opted by a teenager willing to show him how to pick the leaves _carefully_ and share her tray with him; Tobirama offers the toddler sincere praise when shown a handful of fresh leaves, reminds him gently to put them in the tray so they don't get crumpled, then turns to bow politely to the middle-aged woman cautiously approaching him, mindful of his oak-leaf print umbrella.

Maybe he should ask Izuna about a reed hat, like most of these women and girls are wearing. He's not going to be allowed to make his own, after all, but it would be more practical to have his hands free.

"Uchiha-san, my thanks for your patience."

The woman bows in return. "I am Fusa of Toyotama, and I am pleased to meet Tobirama of Amaterasu." She doesn't _sound_ very pleased, but neither does she sound –or feel– particularly distressed or angry, so Tobirama ignores this slight dissonance as simple manners.

"Fusa-san." How should he word this? "I would be most grateful for your assistance in improving my understanding of how the clan processes and uses silk, if indeed it is acceptable to you to instruct me in this." Manners cost him nothing, but could win him much.

One of Fusa-san's eyebrows rises up her forehead slightly, her chakra rock-steady. Tobirama waits patiently, acutely aware of their listening audience.

"Yonaha-san," Fusa-san says eventually, prompting a woman picking leaves alongside a handful of pre-teens to stop singing and turn their way.

"Yes, Fusa-oba?"

"I'm sure I can leave you in charge here."

"Of course, Oba-san." Yonaha-san takes Fusa-san's tray, ducks her head politely to Tobirama then returns to her charges and the song.

"Kiso-kun," Tobirama says, raising his voice slightly as he looks down to make eye-contact with the toddler, who looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes as his fingers clutch another freshly-picked leaf. "You can stay her and help," he says clearly, smiling gently so the boy knows he's not in trouble, "but you must listen to Yonoha-san when she tells you what to do. Understood?"

Kiso nods firmly and goes back to leaf-picking, crooning along to the song. Tobirama decides that is as good as he's likely to get, so turns back to Fusa-san, whose chakra is now bemused and faintly approving rather than merely coldly assessing. "Please lead on, Fusa-san."

She inclines her head politely. "This way then, Tobirama-sama."

* * *

The sun climbs higher in the sky as Tobirama is allowed to look inside the silkworm barn with its shelves and shelves of trays containing voracious caterpillars all in the same stage of their life-cycle, the sound of their jaws like heavy rain on a thin roof, then taken to meet older women and young girls all across the compound sitting on engawa and reeling the high-quality cocoons of a previous generation into almost impossibly fine thread on massive wheels, then to other women –more middle-aged this time– washing, drying and spinning the lower-quality cocoons like cotton, forming a slightly thicker, less even thread.

Much of the reeled silk leaves the clan at this point, sold to artisan dyers and weavers, but not all of it. Fusa-san then walks him through the dyeing district –who have river access at specific times of day, so as not to clash with the laundresses– where many women and some men bend over large troughs, sunken vats and even metal kettles, stirring and singing to mark the time before a specific batch of silk is ready. Some of the silk is painstakingly wrapped to create kasuri effects in the finished garments, but most of it is plain.

"We mostly make plain weave and damasks for our own use," Fusa-san explains, "and then embroider them afterwards, so plain-dyed silks are most useful to us." She then walks him to another workshop a little further up the river, where there is a single silk-painting workshop and three women hard at work, one making rice paste for another round of layering and the other two pouring over a highly detailed sketch on washi with some kind of number-code, talking about dyes and sequencing in a verbal short-hand that Tobirama cannot decipher at all, as their current project dries under the roof on pillars behind them. The Uchiha call these roofs 'barns,' not that you could ever store straw or rice under one.

The silkworm barns are more what Tobirama thinks of as barns, but the Uchiha call those 'storehouses,' as though the shelves and shelves of silkworms are spare furniture or winter coats put away for next winter. He wonders if this difference in word use is another imperial remnant.

Tobirama doesn't expect to ever get his winter coat back; he firmly pushes that thought away for another day, but it resists him. It was his mother's coat, set aside for its quality rather than sold, and he finally grew into it two autumns ago so was able to claim it back from the stay-at-home aunt who had been using it –a warrior garment for a warrior he'd argued, and won– but he'd mourn the loss of the fur shoulder-wrap she always wore far more and that is in Izuna's study with his armour.

Safe, even if not accessible.

Their next stop is not a single location, but again scattered around the compound: the embroiderers are mostly women but do include a few retired warrior men, sitting on engawa for strong but indirect light and working on kimono, haori and hakama of varying sizes, as well as various obi. Like the kimono painters, many of them are working from paper charts, but some seem to be doing freehand work. Well, that or have studied their pattern with sharingan for greater ease of reference; given that most of the people _not_ working from patterns were retired warriors –all with crippling injuries of various kinds– that seems rather likely.

Several of these embroiderers insist on making tea for Tobirama and Fusa-san, and on offering food; Tobirama accepts these mostly because he's conscious that refusing would be rude, but also because it's turning into a _very_ hot day and he's thirsty. If he had chakra he would be able to cope better, but without it all he can do is try to stand in the shade as much as possible, drink plenty and accept any fruit being offered to him.

None of the Uchiha seems to find the temperature even _slightly_ oppressive; a further advantage to being Fire Natured, no doubt.

Conspicuous by its absence is whoever is dyeing silk with murasaki root, but Tobirama knows better than to ask about _that_. He's not seen it growing anywhere either, which implies that is taking place somewhere further away from the main compound for secrecy and security reasons that have nothing to do with him personally and a lot more to do with Izuna not wanting to invite sabotage from third parties who have no connections whatsoever with the Senju.

The Uchiha _do_ trade with civilians after all, possibly to the point of their visiting the clan compound, and having something so valuable where anybody could interfere is _most_ unwise. Something Izuna has shown repeatedly that she very much is not.

"So what kind of income does this bring in, for the clan and the individuals involved?" He finally asks as they are sitting on someone's engawa eating fresh loquats. He's not entirely sure _whose_ engawa this is, because there are five people currently sitting in the shade of this Lineage Residence and none of them have taken charge of serving drinks and food.

Fusa-san eyeballs him quellingly; Tobirama refuses to be embarrassed.

"The reeled silk, hn," the only retired warrior of this set –a fairly young man with several fingers missing on both hands who sits very still and straight– "we get two broods a year and we're not trying to expend capacity, so we're getting as much raw silk out as is possible. Cocoon quality is good, but could be better; we're still spinning more than we might, but that's because we're fairly new to silkworm breeding." He grins. "Means more of us can afford to wear silk, at least, and there's plenty for the dyers to experiment with."

Tobirama sips his tea and waits patiently; his question has not yet been answered.

"The silk we sell reeled and raw, earns us as much as four Squads might in the same time on regular low-risk missions," the former warrior says eventually, "which is plenty, considering how much lower the risks and costs are despite it passing through twice as many hands. What we dye," his lips twitch, "only Izuna-bi's selling that yet, as Tajima-sama feels it's more important to outfit the clan first. Mostly we're doing our own weaving and not selling much, but what _does_ get sold is bringing in useful funds to people who need it."

Including this man; there are not many crafts a man with so many fingers missing can do well in, but embroidery is clearly one of them. Four Uchiha squads are twenty people, and with two hatchings a year –and presumably nothing over winter– that means the raw reeled silk is equivalent to income from an additional twenty active shinobi for a solid eight months without any of the associated feeding and equipping costs.

That is indeed significant, even with the money being split forty ways rather than just twenty. It is likely very few of those forty were bringing money in from outside the clan before the Uchiha started breeding silk, so they will all be doing much better for this change. And that is just the people feeding the silkworms and reeling the cocoons; income from spinning and dyeing is evidently still in its early stages, but Tobirama can read between the lines: the Uchiha are selling _some_ finished kimono, and no doubt commanding sky-high prices for their impeccable work.

"Is Izuna-san selling dyed skeins or woven bolts?" He asks, hoping for an answer.

"Hn. Her clients send cocoons along with instructions for bolt width and weave type, some of them with patterns for yūzen dying." That is half an answer, which is more than he quite dared to hope for. But yes, confirmation that Izuna _is_ supplying the daimyo's wife with purple silk that will not fade.

Where exactly that is happening is still unclear, but Tobirama isn't expecting to get _that_ curiosity answered; mainly because it _is_ pure curiosity, rather than something he can give to his brother to help the Senju prosper once their clans have peace.

Copying what the Uchiha do will create more competition, not peace, but it's a starting point. If it comes to it the Senju can always grow tree cotton; Anija could probably coax the trees into flourishing here and after that it's just a matter of harvesting it. They'd have to grow a _lot_ of cotton to earn well though; possibly banana fibre would serve them better?

Patience; there is more to the Uchiha's income than textiles. It's possible one of the other crafts will be more suited to Senju adoption and there are more crafts out there than those the Uchiha favour, though they are proving surprisingly self-sufficient compared to what he is used to.

* * *

At lunchtime Kiso tells Izuna about helping in the mulberry field –although Tobirama honestly wouldn't have been able to decipher the happy babble without already knowing what the toddler had been doing– which she makes interested noises for and praises him for helping with. Then she speaks a sentence that completely drives all Tobirama's thoughts of crafts and what to ask after next out of his mind:

"I have been dealing with my correspondence –that's letters, Kiso-kun– and Tobirama-san's grandmother has accepted my invitation to visit tomorrow."

"Baa-tan?" Kiso-kun asks, turning to gaze at Tobirama. "Meet Baa-tan?"

"Tobirama-san hasn't seen his grandma in _months_ , Kiso-kun," Izuna says mildly. "They're going to have tea together, and afterwards you can say hello too."

"Hn." The toddler pouts. Izuna pokes his stomach gently.

"What's with that spade-lip? She's visiting in the _morning_ , you're going to be out with Naka-Scallion!" She flicks the protruding lower lip playfully. "Making flower crowns and picking fruit!"

Kiso perks up. "For Baa-tan!"

"You want to make a flower crown for Tobirama-san's grandma?"

"Hn!"

"I'm sure she'll love that, Kiso-kun," Tobirama manages past the sudden lump in his throat. "I will be sure to ask her to stay until you get back."

The toddler squirms over to hug him around the waist, arms barely reaching more than halfway. "Tank, Keifu."

Tobirama ruffles his hair. "Kiso-kun is very welcome." It is however a relief when the toddler lies down for his afternoon nap, freeing him up to think about what this means and what he will have to do without having to keep most of his attention on the little boy demanding he be attended to.

Baachan. Baachan is coming _here_. Where _is_ 'here,' for the purposes of this meeting? The Diplomatic Quarters? Tobirama really hopes _not_. The tea house in the grounds of the Amaterasu Residence? Some other location?

The Outguard Hall? Tobirama would prefer the Diplomatic Quarters to _that,_ honestly. He's not set foot in the building yet and would very much like to continue avoiding doing so. Both so as not find himself within arm's reach of Tajima and to avoid being confronted with a disgruntled warrior; his _honoured_ father-in-law has already shown himself to be sly in exploiting loopholes, and his willingness to look the other way will be all the encouragement some might need.

Although he does now at least know that they are vanishingly unlikely to succeed in doing him physical harm.

"Deep thoughts, Treasure?"

He glares at his wife, who raises her hands with a rueful smile.

"I did rather drop that on you, didn't I."

"Yes, you did." But it's done now, and honestly he's glad to have half a day to think about things rather than Izuna sitting on the news until evening. "Where is this happening?"

"My father suggested the Diplomatic Quarters," Izuna says; Tobirama makes a face. "I _know_ , Treasure. I was able to prevent that on the basis that the repairs aren't finished yet; all the shōji have been replaced now and the fusuma cleaned, but it turns out I cracked one of the pillars and a crossbeam rescuing you, so we need to take the roof off before the rains come and get that sorted out."

He is vividly reminded that Susano-o is very much _not_ suited for indoor use; now though Tobirama is grateful for the mess. "Where then?"

"The tea house in the northern half of the garden, Treasure," Izuna says, grinning abruptly, "that I had built specially to take tea with my charming spouse in."

She –that was built for _him?_ Not there already, not added because Izuna herself wished to host tea, but for _him?_ Tobirama reels. _This_ is why it took longer than expected for her to move in here, because she was having _an entire extra building_ put in?

"Will you not be serving me tea in it first, so that I can appreciate it?" He manages to ask, hoping his humour and teasing obscures his wonder and embarrassed pleasure.

Izuna's eyes soften, sweetness and deep, aching emotion tingeing her chakra. "A Shoburo for my Treasure then, to celebrate the first use of the brazier as summer begins." She shuffles closer over the tatami and kisses him lightly. "A nice evening Chakai, to calm both our minds; I will go and see about acquiring fresh namagashi." Her lips twitch. "I'm afraid they will be nothing so fine as the sakuramochi I bought you from the Yanagi-machi."

"The Tea is its own joy, which the wagashi merely accent," Tobirama says virtuously. "I am sure whoever you ask will produce wonders for you." His wife is very _much_ beloved by her kin, that much has been made abundantly clear to him, and there will be _somebody_ who sees the request of sweets for Tea Ceremony at no notice on a stifling summer afternoon as the perfect opportunity to express their appreciation.

Izuna leans in for another kiss, which Tobirama deepens. It is very pleasant indeed to kiss her like this, slow and carefully so as to enjoy the warmth it brings despite the heat of the day.

"I shall go and arrange sweets then, Treasure," she murmurs eventually, forehead resting against his as they both breathe. "And then once Kiso-kun has woken and been handed off to Moreya-jii, I will give you your choice of the other less formal summer kimono, so you can decide what you wish to wear when your grandmother visits."

Another three kimono plus accessories; Tobirama cannot believe he is becoming vaguely accustomed to his wife's extravagance. Then again, it is likely that as the creator of the hiden jutsu that keeps murasaki dyes from fading and architect of the subsequent contract with the daimyo, she actually has almost as much _personal_ funds as half the rest of the clan put together.

That she is choosing to spend that immense wealth on _him_ is her own choice; that it elicits deep, shivering _feeling_ under his ribs is something he is going to have to address sooner or later.

But not yet.


	37. Chapter 37

It is actually a little odd to be wearing linen next to his skin again after weeks of almost nothing but silk, but with how hot it was today the linen nagajuban was _very_ comfortable. The new undergarment is also a _much_ finer weave than the undershirts that had been given to him with the indigoes he'd started his captivity wearing, which makes a considerable difference.

His new tomesode is also very fine, a silk gauze, and he has not felt _uncomfortably_ hot today despite walking around outside for the entire morning. He did feel slightly overdressed compared to the prints most of the people he met today were wearing, but some of those repeated designs were _very_ small, and others were large and _very_ complex. It's ironically likely his kimono may have actually required _less_ time to make, despite being damask and dyed in two colours; not counting the embroidery, of course.

It's currently the hottest part of the day, but it's not actually terrible indoors with all the shōji open and the sudare blinds blocking out most of the sunshine. In fact it's fairly pleasant, especially with some tea to drink.

Sitting in the front room with his wife and a respectable mound of washi-wrapped packages is also surprisingly fun. He is yet to ask about any of them and Izuna is eyeing him over her tea, anticipation mingling with mild pique in her chakra.

Yes, he's teasing her by pretending he's not really that interested. Yes, it's funny. No, he regrets nothing.

Yes, Izuna _can_ tell he's doing it on purpose; that's why it's fun. Yes, he's well aware this is a very leopard-like thing to find amusement in, but it's not like that matters.

"I very much like my new outfit," he says eventually, setting his cup aside. "What else has my Lord-Wife chosen to dress me in for the coming summer months?"

Izuna eyes him over the top of her cup with mock-reproach, then very slowly slurps the last of her tea before setting it down. Tobirama smirks at her; it's fun, teasing each-other when he can tell there's no hurt on either side and no urgency either.

"So where would my terrible tease of a concubine like to start?" She inquires sweetly. "Under-layers first? By outfit? By textile?"

"By sleeve-length," Tobirama decides on a whim, "longest first; and by outfit within that."

Izuna hums and passes him the largest package. Opening it, Tobirama finds six plain unbleached juban in translucently fine linen, clearly intended for wearing under a cotton yukata or linen summer jōfu. The sheerness of the weave will make them very airy in hot weather, but they will hide _nothing_ and barely hang to mid-thigh. It's a good thing they're under-layers; if they were intended to be worn as a shirt he'd worry about the sun burning his skin _though_ it.

"I have noticed you find the heat oppressive, Treasure," his wife says lightly, "so I endeavoured to choose something you would find comfortable next to your skin."

"Such a thoughtful wife I have," Tobirama says lightly, unfolding one of the sleeves to feel the weave properly. As he thought; even through _two_ layers it is just-about possible to glimpse skin. Does something this insubstantial actually _count_ as clothing? Or is it simply nudity claiming to be otherwise? The natural pale ecru of the delicate threads is very close to his natural skin-tone, but Tobirama can see how bleaching it white would actually draw _more_ attention to its translucence, not _less_.

At least they all have the standard loose tube-shaped short sleeves they are supposed to.

"I am sure I will appreciate these as the summer becomes stifling," he says, refolding the juban in his lap and setting it aside with the others. Wearing one of these the next time he lays himself across his wife's futon for her pleasure springs to mind; they're translucent enough –and short enough– for doing so to be blatant provocation, and that could be a lot of fun.

"And you will look very fine," his wife agrees, eyeing him mischievously over a rigid round fan produced from her sleeve-seals. The pattern facing him is a delicate print of a peony bush shedding petals that drift around a stone lantern and a discarded zōri sandal, all finely outlined and shaded in shades of blue ink; Tobirama suspects it's an oblique reference to some play or other. Until recently he'd thought the seasonal references, occasional poetry and auspicious animals on the visible surface of ladies' fans were repeated on the other side as well, but _now_ he knows that the inner surface is usually brightly coloured and often bears no relation to the visible design. He has two fans of his own proving such.

"Of course my wife would say so," he points out lightly.

"Hn," she agrees, eyes raking up his body with light-hearted lasciviousness –Tobirama feels himself instantly responding to her playful desire– then she sets her fan down and passes him another package. "Longest sleeves first, as requested."

Once he takes the gift she picks up her fan again, gently wafting cooler air over her face as she watches him intently. It makes him think of her calloused fingertips gliding over his skin, her lips pressing teasing kisses to his hands and face and throat as she unties his obi for access to yet more skin to caress, to taste, to _pleasure_.

Tobirama drops his eyes to the washi-wrapped gift in his lap, aware that he cannot hide his arousal from his wife; she is too perceptive. He breathes; he is opening gifts. Other things can wait until later.

Peeling back the washi reveals deep blue linen with a bold design in bright white and hints of pale water-blue; Tobirama can't help his pleased smile.

"It's not indigo," Izuna teases him, "so I thought it might please you."

"It is very fine indeed," Tobirama says, shaking it out; it truly is magnificent. The colour is true ultramarine blue, which is a very popular synthetic pigment from Water Country and equally suited to dyes, painting and cosmetics. This linen jōfu has sleeves no less deep than his visiting kimono, but it is resist-printed with a simple and stylish pattern of waving pampas grass, just two staggered stems swaying on each panel for maximum impact and minimal busyness.

It is _entirely_ Izuna to find a print he _adores_ and have it made up into a kimono with deep sleeves; Tobirama instantly resolves to wear it regardless. The sleeves will not kill him.

Then he sighs, because his wife clearly _knew_ this print would overcome his reservations. "My wife is terribly devious in her gift-giving," he laments spuriously as he folds the summer jōfu up again.

Izuna fans herself languidly. "Oh but _Treasure_ ," she croons. "When dressing you, every gift is also a gift for _me_."

Tobirama had known that, but it is one thing to know and another to hear it _said_. "What less extravagantly-sleeved offerings has my Lord-Wife purchased for herself to enjoy then?" He's fairly sure that whatever the literary reference for that fan-print is, it _is_ somewhat indecent. A lady's sandal discarded in a garden can _only_ have suggestive connotations, for where is the lady and what other garments has she parted company with? How very much like Izuna to have such a suggestive scene plainly in view on an everyday item.

His wife hums and selects another kimono-sized package; evidently his wonderful blue garment does not have a specific obi to go with it; no matter, it will look fine with his rapeseed green soft obi.

Pulling back the washi of _this_ package reveals pink. _Striped_ pink. Thin vertical printed stripes in medium safflower –which is a very vivid pink _indeed_ – and sakura pink, which looks almost like a warm white in contrast. Tobirama eyeballs his wife as he unfolds the jōfu; _this_ one has completely appropriate masculine sleeves, to go with its very masculine and sober stripe pattern in a vivid and feminine colour set.

He is going to wear this; he knows it already. It is fine, comfortable linen with a subtle pattern and easily-managed sleeves, and holding it against his arm reveals that the brilliant pink _does_ , in fact, suit his skin tone. He could wear this and look _good_.

Tobirama could have happily gone his entire life without learning he would look good in vivid pink. But evidently this is the price he has to pay for the Senju's continued survival, so he will bear it as best he can. If he ever manages to regain some pride for his wife to repurchase, he will be more specific in requesting masculine sleeves and an absence of bright pink. "I can see that this will suit me," he admits, "and that my wife has gone to _considerable lengths_ to ensure this is something I will be comfortable wearing."

Izuna smiles at him, soft and delighted with relief subtle but perceptible in her chakra, and hands him a smaller parcel.

This gift is a very masculine soft obi in kudzu-green silk gauze with an attractively simple fletching pattern damasked into it; it can be worn with the pink kimono, softening it, but does not quite _work_ with the ultramarine kimono. Then again, his rapeseed-green obi _will_ work, so that's not exactly a problem. "This is very fine and will also look good with my current kimono," he notes, "and I see that neither of these are the sober silk outfit waved in front of me yesterday."

Which means that, since this is going in order of sleeve-depth, said sober kimono also has sleeves of a properly masculine cut. Which is so very Izuna really, though it _also_ likely means that not _one_ of his painted kimono will have sleeves that are less than draping. He is however not terribly opposed to the length he is currently wearing. It's when they get into the 'younger matron' range –which his very fine pampas-grass-print kimono _does_ sidle up close to– that he starts to feel a little uncomfortable.

At least Izuna has enough mercy to _not_ dress him in sleeves befitting a new bride. _That_ he could not countenance; his wife can wear them.

"No, they are not," Izuna agrees, patting the trio of gifts remaining beside her. "That is here, if you are ready for it?"

Tobirama carefully folds the soft obi and sets it aside. "I am."

His next gift is a fine linen nagajuban dyed in pale persimmon, a light orangey brown. It is resist-printed with flowering pinks, easily recognised by the five zigzag-edged petals that make up every round flower head, and is printed over the top with thin leaves and jointed stems in glazed persimmon, a ruddier, deeper shade of orange-brown than the background. Summery but subtle, the autumn flowers barely visible at collar and sleeve-cuffs; Tobirama likes it. "This is a very well-chosen colour gradient," he says, folding it back up again, "and I am now even more curious about what 'sober' kimono will go well with it."

Izuna hums, eyes bright and eager over the top of the fan, and passes him the penultimate parcel; the _small_ parcel. Tobirama accepts it gamely and unfolds it across his lap.

The leno-weave silk obi is unlined, full-width and a delicate eggshell colour; unfolding it reveals grey-capped greenfinches painted with startling realism, wings spread as they take flight all at once across the pattern section, with a few more of the birds fluttering here and there around what would be the visible waist section. It is slightly shorter than his other full-width obi, closer to the checked half-width obi despite being rather wider.

He does like those birds though. The colours are perfect and so is the shading; they might almost be real. The undyed silk obi cords tucked into the folds are also very welcome; they will look very good with the kimono he is wearing regardless of the obi he adds over the top.

"I like this obi very much, it is beautiful," he says firmly. It will even go with his new ultramarine kimono if he wishes to be a bit more formal, as well as the pink striped kimono. Despite the colours working well he however can't wear it with the tomesode he currently has on; kimono and obi patterns are supposed to complement, and having the same feature or pattern on both –two kinds of birds, two types of water ripples, etc– is considered a fashion faux pas. Unless the design is flowers, of course.

Izuna's eyes crinkle over the top of her fan, Amaterasu's necklace shifting. "I am delighted to hear it, Treasure. Here," She pushes the last package across the tatami, "your sober silk kimono."

Tobirama carefully folds the eggshell obi back into its wrapping, then takes the last package. Well, the last of _this_ set; he still has three more painted silk kimono to survive, which will doubtless be a little nerve-racking.

Removing the washi reveals a leno-weave chirimen gauze dyed a deep ruddy purple; mulberry-seed colour, he's fairly sure this one is, unless it's adzuki bean. Some of the colour variations in the sample book Azumaya-ba got for him look _very_ similar to him, but evidently there is some perceptible difference in the shading to Uchiha eyes even if he is oblivious to it. This kimono has a large irregular curving pattern that seemed to be weft-only, resist-dyed onto the silk before weaving, so Tobirama shakes the garment out.

It's stunning. A crashing wave-crest pattern, stylised frothy foam the brilliant creamy white of undyed silk against the warm yet subdued background, slightly broken up by the regular twists of the warp threads that create neat rows of tiny gaps in the weave, which are what give leno-weave its subtly striped appearance.

This is beautiful silk that will look amazing both with the nagajuban provided or over one of the plain juban on even hotter days, and it's very clearly intended as a casual everyday kimono. It's kasuri-dyed –in a very large pattern yes, but that still counts– and in a cut and colour he doesn't think he could ever tire of; it will even look good with his rapeseed soft obi if he doesn't want to wear the full-width greenfinch one.

"I will enjoy wearing _all_ my new kimono," he says eventually, "but I think this one is my favourite." It narrowly wins over the pampas grass for being silk and having less deep sleeves; they are not narrow warrior sleeves, of course –no proper kimono has those– but the attachment to the body of the outfit is wider and fully stitched, and the overhang is suitably subtle.

Izuna lowers her fan to reveal a wide, delighted smile. "I am very happy to have pleased you with my choices, Treasure," she says warmly. "Alas that I did not think to provide you with a summer tea kimono; I will have to rectify that."

"I can wear my wool kimono over one of my new linen nagajuban," Tobirama says easily; "the persimmon one I think, with my very fine new greenfinch obi. That will be suitably subdued and also comfortably cool." Wool is a lovely thing to wear, warm in winter yet cool in summer, but unfortunately it is a fairly expensive import from either Wind or Earth. He's not sure which kind of wool his white-tea-coloured kimono is exactly, but either way it was likely quite an investment.

Not that his other kimono aren't that as well, but of all the kimono Izuna has given him, the subtle, subdued wool damask is the only one which she could _never_ had commissioned within the clan. Yes, he knows she bought at least the shrimp-print, but she _could_ have commissioned such a thing from a kinsman if she'd cared to wait that long and save herself some money.

"Well we have until the wagashi arrive to do whatever you would like," Izuna says mildly, "As Hayami-chan has very thoughtfully set up the tea house for me; apparently I need to let her do more, she's bored with just cleaning and keeping the vases in seasonal flowers."

So _that_ is where the fresh flowers are coming from. "Is that my cue to crack a fusuma trying to have sex with you against it?" Tobirama asks dryly; Izuna lets out an inelegant whoop of laughter, slapping the tatami.

"Oh Treasure," she manages to snigger after more cackling laughter, "oh, the _gossip_ can you _imagine?"_ She shakes her head, plucking a handkerchief from thin air to dab at her eyes with. "Yes, I know Uchiha fusuma are rather sturdier than the usual civilian kind –we make them like tsuitate, actual boards instead of painted paper over the inner lattice– but that's no excuse for assuming they'll take your weight!"

"The Diplomatic Quarters fusuma were _very_ sturdy," Tobirama says mock-innocently, grinning at her reaction to his joke. "I was terribly misled and assumed they were all like that."

Izuna _wheezes_ and topples over on her side onto the tatami, still shaking with laughter.

* * *

Tobirama has been served Tea Ceremony by Izuna a few times now, but this is the first time he has _ever_ taken tea in a proper chashitsu, never mind taken part in one of the more significant ceremonies of the tea calendar. Thankfully however Izuna seems to have decided to spare him the formality of a chaji –then again, it's hard to arrange such a thing at half a day's notice– and he is rather more familiar with the steps involved in a Tea Ceremony now than he was the first time his wife did this, so the experience is less didactic and more enjoyable.

Not that he has ever _not_ enjoyed Tea with Izuna, but it's nice to not stumble over the formalities, nor to need her occasional quiet prompting. The slow dance of the ceremony with its prescribed steps, its subtle, restful rhythm and its enforced contemplation helps his mind to settle, letting him leave his many fears and thoughts outside the building.

The wagashi provided by an unspecified Uchiha are awa daifuku with a loquat jelly filling; seeing them makes Tobirama smile despite the meditative calm of the Tea Ceremony, reminding him of Izuna's wailing over being banned from her favourite sweets for half a year. Evidently her fondness for the treat is well-known within the clan. Then again, even if they hadn't known before her father banned her from the treat, they most certainly would have done by the end of that punishment.

It does not surprise him that the Uchiha make their daifuku by mixing millet in with the rice as it is steamed and kneaded into mochi; they grow fields of the tall grain crop within their compound, its stems and leaves strongly reed-like with heavy seed-heads like foxes' tails. It is a very small grain and surprisingly tasty; Tobirama has come to enjoy the variety of dishes that the Uchiha serve and the creativity with which they have altered what he considers to be bland staple meals. Perhaps not as fine as the much-fabled Akimichi cookery, but certainly better than what he's used to preparing for himself.

Izuna serves him wearing a kudzu-leaf green silk gauze kimono with a delicate resist-print of swaying reeds, tied at her waist by a dove-grey obi heavily damasked with deep grey cormorants. It makes her restful to look at, the subdued tones and patterns quite unlike her usual vibrant preferences, and clarifies what a different space this is from the outer world.

The tea is good and the daifuku are sweet and juicy. Tobirama feels calmer for the ceremony despite it being a little different –his part did not change, only Izuna's– and even after it ends, the sense of peace lingers.

This is the first time Izuna has used a proper brazier to make him Tea, not just her hands or a fuuinjutsu-marked metal plate. It makes the ceremony longer and also somehow more real.

Tobirama feels… content.

* * *

The contentment lasts through the rest of the afternoon –which Tobirama spends napping intermittently as Izuna composes on her koto– through Kiso's return and dinner, after which the dropping temperature turns his idle languor to playful wrestling with the toddler before bed.

Then once Kiso is in bed, Izuna takes him to _her_ bed and Tobirama luxuriates in the pleasure of giving his wife exactly what she asks of him and embracing what she grants him in return.

But he sleeps badly, and ends up moving back to his own room after the second time waking up and finding he's stolen most of his wife's sheets; Izuna kisses him blearily and mumbles something about messengers, so he's not entirely sure she was as awake as she'd claimed to be when he left.

When he finally wakes to dawn light peeking through the shōji he finds himself half-sprawled on the tatami, curled around Kiso's toddler futon. Stretching meticulously, Tobirama decides further rest is a lost cause; it is time to get up and face the day, whatever it may bring.

And to try _not_ to worry himself into a frenzy before Baasan gets here.

* * *

As he waits by the main gate of the Uchiha compound –which does not actually have any doors, being an open torii-like structure over the wide road that runs parallel to the river through the Outguard district and beyond it through the fields to the south, more a concession to allowing swift movement of a large number of warriors towards the Senju compound than any kind of official entrance– Tobirama reminds himself to thank his wife for ambushing him on his way out of the bathhouse this morning. Retrospectively he can see he _had_ been trying to come up with rational justifications for all his choices –both the things he had done and not done– and Izuna cornering him, chakra urgent and physical scent heavy with lust as she pressed kisses to his hands and _begged_ him to indulge her desires, had been a highly effective and enjoyable distraction.

It had also reminded him that his choices were not made in the absence of other influences. He is married yes, and is determined to honour that commitment, but it was still a choice he was coerced into making and his subsequent decisions while imprisoned were all heavily informed by said imprisonment. While Tōka was with him he had to tread carefully so as not to do anything that might have led her to be punished, and then her escape exposed him to further difficult choices.

Remembering Tōma, shackled to the wall with nothing but a borrowed shirt and a blanket he couldn't even cover himself with, Tobirama is sure that collaborating with Izuna _was_ the right choice; is _still_ the right choice. If he had chosen death he could not now be helping his family, and if he had been more incautious about trying to escape Tōka might well have been maimed before _she_ could escape, and he would still be under greater restrictions. But he chose the long game, and it is now paying off. He has his wife's affection, greater freedoms and the liberty to push for more later.

He trusted Izuna's honesty and he has been repaid: the Uchiha and Senju now have a ceasefire and a peace treaty is now being tentatively planned. There has even been a letter from the Aburame, to discuss the preliminary arrangements in person before the actual terms are discussed.

Peace treaties, it turns out, are a long, slow business; actual negotiation is unlikely to begin until after the summer heat has passed. But they will have the ceasefire until then, and Izuna's immediate invitation to his grandmother is a good starting-point for convincing both sides that yes, this will work.

He feels very self-conscious, despite wearing his new and very masculine-styled crashing-wave kasuri kimono with his orange and white stiff obi. Part of it is the oak-leaf-print umbrella –a perpetual reminder that he cannot simply protect his skin from the sun with chakra– but mostly it's the various Outguard Uchiha 'casually' wandering through his sensory range, all terribly curious about his wife's guest.

Senju Sunami being _her_ guest, Izuna has gone down to the Uchiha's southern border to meet and escort Tobirama's grandmother the rest of the way, his having assured his wife that regardless of her age, Baasan is _perfectly_ capable of running at shinobi speeds when required. Even in a formal kimono.

She was born an Uzumaki after all, and they live very long and healthy lives.

It's an hour to the border at a dead run, and Tobirama isn't sure Baasan can run _quite_ that fast; he didn't even leave the house until over an hour after Izuna had, using the time to talk to Naka-Dragon about the arrangements made and check the chashitsu. There is a basket of charcoal for him to fuel the already-lit brazier with, an iron pot for brewing tea and Izuna's tea caddy waiting with the guest cups and a succession of fuuinjutsu-sealed snack boxes, so the food contained within won't go bad in the heat. He isn't sure how they work and the seal itself doesn't offer any clues: two adjacent equilateral triangles with a corner in common, mirroring each-other, with a horizontal line drawn across the inside of each triangle below that contact point.

Naka-Dragon demonstrated the opening mechanism to him, a little twist to 'turn' the seal so the triangles are one balanced on top of the other rather than adjacent, but that still did not offer any clues as to its underlying principles.

Something to ask Izuna about later.

Beyond the gate he is waiting at there are a row of fields, and then a wide cleared meadow stretching from the river to his left away to the right, an area presumably used for training and assembling the Outguard as well as a security measure. He's seen a patrol arrive and another leave since he started waiting, and protocol seems to be for warriors to slow to a regular jog upon passing the treeline rather than using enhanced speed right up to the gate. It's a good measure, and there's evidently a sensor on duty to raise the alarm if anybody _doesn't_ do this.

Surely it won't take _that_ much longer for Baasan to arrive?

And then, as though summoned by his impatience and the persistent, irrational fear that she will not actually come at all, a trio of people materialise at the treeline: two Uchiha, but the third shorter and unmistakeably red-haired, wearing a michiyuki coat in the vivid shade of teal that is traditional for Uzumaki; the blue-tinted green of bamboo.

It is so _strange_ to see her and not sense her, but it _is_ her. He can tell by how she stands and walks, although that faintly pink-tinged red hair is distinctive enough.

She _came_. Tobirama takes a deep breath, then another; he will _not_ cry.

He does cry. But Baachan hugs him and Izuna gives him her handkerchief, like he doesn't have one of his own, and they're _happy_ tears. It's fine.

* * *

His grandmother keeps up a polite stream of conversation with Izuna all the way to the Amaterasu Residence and through her coat being hung in the genkan –revealing a glorious dark bellflower blue visiting kimono painted with flower rafts– until Tobirama has escorted her into the little tea-house in the garden. Then and only then do her face and chakra turn serious:

Show me the fuuinjutsu, grandson."

"Baa-san!" Tobirama protests, but nonetheless tugs at the collar of his kimono and nagajuban until they are both loose enough that he can shrug the upper half of the garment off his shoulders, the stiff obi wrapped just above his hips holding the rest of his outfit in place. Then he turns his back, sitting down so she can see all of it without stretching; hopefully Baachan _won't_ comment on the greenish bruise on the side of his neck, left from where Izuna bit him there a week ago.

He doesn't actually know if the seal looks the same as it did when Tōka first described it to him; Izuna has modified it several times since his cousin left, or at least modified its function. The increased freedom of movement being the most noticeable change, but he clearly remembers the ease with which she granted him access to chakra –and then took it away again.

"Tōka-chan is entirely correct," Baasan says eventually, after much humming and some mortifying tugging at his obi to examine the lower edge of the seal beneath his waistline. "It is indeed Invocation, and a very complex one; or perhaps, should I say, not complex _enough_."

Tobirama glances back at her over his shoulder; she feels like she wants to cry. "Baachan?"

"Oh, my darling grandson," Baachan says, voice hitching. "Invocation is by _far_ the most dangerous of the fuuinjutsu disciplines my family studies; those belonging to this particular school just _disappear_ sometimes. Or have dramatic and messy accidents with seals that have worked perfectly well in the past. And not one of them has _ever_ painted their seals on anything other than paper."

Despite it being a warm morning in late spring, Tobirama abruptly feels very, very cold; he pulls his nagajuban back up over his shoulders, then gets to his feet so as to straighten the layers properly and cover the telltale mark on his throat.

"It is a beautiful piece of work," Baachan concedes, anger mingling with her grief, "but my darling boy, your Lord-Wife has invited a kami to touch your _soul_ so that she can ensure that any transgressions on your part will be _instantly_ punished. And the limitations or conditions demarcating what _counts_ as unacceptable behaviour seem… imprecise."

"Imprecise or subjective?" Tobirama asks, deciding his nagajuban is as straight as it is going to get without taking his obi and other belts off again and starting from scratch. He is _not_ stripping naked in front of his grandmother, not when he has considerably more recent marks of his wife's enjoyment of his body colouring his thighs.

Baachan hums, chakra steadying slightly in the face of an inquiry into fuuinjutsu theory. "Subjective is perhaps a better word. There is much of this seal I _cannot_ read, grandson, because the terminology and symbolism used are entirely unfamiliar; however the criteria by which your actions are judged are clear enough: you are bound to the welfare of the household of the one who bound you."

The welfare of _Izuna's_ household. "So I cannot disrupt my wife's domestic arrangements," he says heavily as he puts his arms back into the kimono sleeves, "yet I am also protected from others who would do so." His chest hurts. He _knew_ he was bound, and bound tightly, but _why_ do the details hurt so _much?_

"I believe you _could_ disrupt them," Baachan says shrewdly, "so long as your disruption held the intention of _improving_ the household, or else _protecting_ it from outside harm. You may build up; you cannot wilfully destroy, or even be complicit in others doing so."

To escape would terminally disrupt Izuna's household; Tobirama's hands shake as he straightens the front of his outfit. "Thank you for telling me."

They will have a child together before the year's end, but Izuna's household is not merely herself and the unborn; there is Kiso to think of as well, and he has made promises there. Leaving would be abandoning Kiso, which would most certainly disrupt Izuna's household and reduce the toddler to disquieting withdrawn silence once more. Which he does not _wish_ to be the cause of.

"Oh grandson." He looks up as she moves to stand next to him. "Let me hug you again, Tobira-kun; I have my grandson restored to me and in good health, and my granddaughter as well. I am so _very_ grateful to you for making that possible, Tobi-kun."

Tobirama had not expected _any_ of his family to _thank_ him for making that decision. Hearing Baachan _praise_ his rushed and selfish choice to _not_ see his cousin murdered in front of him is–

He is crying again; Baachan still smells like osmanthus even through his blunted senses and to feel her arms and steady autumn-ocean-afternoon chakra wrapped around him again is _wonderful_.

* * *

Tea and the first round of snacks –senbei only, breakfast was not so long ago after all– help Tobirama settle again, as does washing his face in the sink in the back room of the chashitsu. Then, once he is more composed, he determinedly sets about asking all those questions he's been avoiding thinking about because he couldn't answer them.

"So what happened to my father?"

Baachan sighs, eyes lowering to her tea. "Staring with the hard questions, grandson," she murmurs. "No, do not apologise; I fully understand. The rest of the clan were all told, and you have a right to know as well. Tokonoma-kun announced a week ago that Shitomi-san murdered my oldest son, and that Yagura-san walked in on the deed and killed Shitomi-san in vengeance." She closes her eyes. "I do not believe that is the full tale, but Tokonoma-kun swore to me on the lives of his children that he neither murdered his brother nor ordered it done, and that is _enough_."

Tobirama bows his head; he knows this is no less painful for Baachan than it is for him; more painful even, as his father was her son. Not her firstborn –Ōka-ba holds that position– but no less her first son for that.

His father is by no means the first son his grandmother has lost, but the rest fell to war and missions, not to murder.

Tobirama still does not miss his father. He sees that the loss causes his grandmother pain and that makes him want to comfort her, but he does not hurt like she does.

He did not weep at Kawarama's death, or at his funeral. He felt empty and confused until three months later, when he came upon a patch of mushrooms and broke down completely, because they'd been his littlest brother's favourites. Then Itama had died, and Tobirama had dreaded the looming grief more than the funeral.

But it hadn't come when he'd expected it to, and he'd thought it wouldn't come at all. Then he'd discovered Hashirama was meeting with _an Uchiha_ and he'd had to restrain himself from interrupting the clandestine meeting and _throwing_ himself at the two _idiots_ , how _dare_ they?! How dare they _do that_ when it was Uchiha who _murdered_ Itama, their vicious, _precious_ crybaby brother, who _tortured_ him before he died–!

He'd _screamed_ and sobbed and flooded a small meadow, then staggered home and told his father about Hashirama's new 'friend'. And he _still_ held he'd done the right thing, because if he _hadn't_ told Father then Hashirama would have found himself facing Tajima all alone, and he'd have died.

He doesn't feel that dull emptiness about his father's death though; he just feels relieved. Does that make him unfilial?

Well if it _does_ , then his father shouldn't have proved himself _unworthy_ of Tobirama's regard by _sending kinsmen to murder him_. And he _especially_ shouldn't have sent _Tōma_.

"Has Anija noticed he's not Clan Heir yet?"

Baachan snorts. "Mito-chan has; I think she's relieved. She's seen what being Clan Head did to her father-in-law after all; I think she's grateful that Hashirama-kun will never risk following in his father's footsteps." She eyes him over her tea. "He may be soft-hearted and outspoken about ending the feud, but that utter conviction in his own rightness is very like the assurance that your father had as a young man, that his path was just and his cause was righteous. And it was my own husband's determination to do right by the clan that led me to love him."

Tobirama sips his tea; he does not _want_ to believe that Anija could ever match his father in cruelty, but… he _knows_ Hashirama is careless, and also that once his brother's mind is made up he is impossible to sway from his chosen course. And since being abducted by Izuna, he has seen and heard undeniable proof that his brother is not seeking to learn _more_ about the peace process, or even about the Uchiha; proof that his brother's well-meaning ignorance has cost lives and exacerbated the alienation between their clans. Meaning well does not shield a person from unfavourable results; who knows how Anija would have blundered irreversibly in trying to make peace if he had become Clan Head?

"Tōka is a good student, when she applies herself," is all he says.

"Yes, she is," Baachan says lightly, "and she is _certainly_ applying herself _much_ more now; I may have to thank Izuna-chan for her efforts. And you too, Tobi-kun; you have taught my little peach-blossom more new kanji in two months than I managed to drill into her stubborn brain in two _years_."

"I think that was the broken legs," Tobirama says dryly, setting his cup down.

"Then I shall have to recommend longer convalescences for young warriors to Ōka-chan, for educational purposes," Baachan says blandly; Tobirama stifles a snicker and takes a senbei.

"However, grandson, I would very much like to hear more about your situation from _you_ ," his grandmother goes on, tone softening. "Tōka-chan has said her piece, but we both know she is not the most subtle, and you have always been very good at hiding your true feelings behind rational excuses."

"Izuna-san does not find me so," Tobirama says before he can stop himself.

Baasan looks at him calmly. "You wife does not find you how, dear one?"

"She doesn't find me hard to read." Tobirama meets her eyes for a brief, half-accusing moment. "And most of the other Uchiha I've met don't seem to struggle much either, but Izuna-san can pick up on confusion or interest when I'm not even _looking_ at her."

"That may partly be the seal she has placed on you," Baasan points out steadily, "but I can concede that the Uchiha are infamous for their perspicacity, even when not using their bloodline. It may well be that they find you easier to read."

Now Tobirama feels foolish.

"But that does not answer my question, grandson: how are _you?_ "

Tobirama picks up his tea and drinks it. "I am…" What does he say? That he's well cared-for? That he feels _heard?_ That he has a small boy he has committed himself to parenting, and another infant girl who will no doubt be joining their household _before_ Izuna's own unborn takes its first breath? That he _likes_ the person his lifelong battlefield rival has proved to be and _trusts_ her to keep her word to him?

That he's starting to realise he might not just like her as a person, but _love_ her? Not just lust for the embrace of her body and delight in the quickness of her mind, but desire her joy, her trust, her very _self?_

"I am learning," Tobirama says very carefully, "that I know very little indeed about the Uchiha, both as a clan and as people, and that the more I learn, the more I cannot help but wonder _why_ we have been feuding with them for so long." He takes a breath. "I have also learned that war makes monsters of us all, knowing and unknowing." One day Kiso-kun will be old enough to ask what happened to his parents, siblings and other family, old enough to _understand_ the answer, and on that day Tobirama will have to tell him. And it will _hurt_.

He hopes Izuna has built enough subtlety into the seal binding him that telling a hard truth will not harm him, even if that truth makes Kiso cry and rage. A hard truth is far less disruptive in the long term than allowing deceit to stand.

"It is hard to deny the humanity and value of those you live among, is it not?" Baasan says gently, chakra soft and eyes terribly knowing.

"Did you _want_ to marry Jii-san, Baa-san?"

"Not particularly," his grandmother says calmly, sipping her tea. "But I was the right age and had no particular suitor who had caught my eye, and my father asked it of me. I did not _want_ to leave my home, to travel inland where the cries of the gulls and the smell of salt would no longer be constant companions, just to marry a younger man with blood on his hands whom I had seen only once and never spoken to. But if it was not me it would be my younger sister, and she was _desperately_ in love with a glassblower's apprentice. So I agreed for her sake."

"Did you come to care for him?"

"Eventually. It was seeing how he doted on Ōka-chan, despite her being a daughter and not the son the clan had been hoping for, that finally won my heart, but I came to care for him before that. He listened to me, trusted my advice and did not hide himself from me. He did his best for the clan, but war made him hard to those beyond his immediate family."

"He loved you?"

"He cherished me," Baasan says deliberately. "He loved my children. He respected my judgement and my abilities. But did he _love_ me? No more than most men love their sisters or their battlefield comrades; he was not a man given to passion, your Jii-san. It made it easier, in many ways; he never once tried to use his feelings for me to pressure me into things, as some men are given to doing to their lovers and wives."

Tobirama has seen that happen; he's grateful it's not something Izuna even seems to _consider_.

His grandmother sighs. "Was it a grand romance? No. Was it _comfortable?_ Not particularly, seeing as we were frequently at war and I had to comfort him through the loss of siblings and cousins, then of sons. But I found contentment in my lot and after his death I did not return home to Uzushio, as was written into my marriage contract that I would be allowed to do." She sets her empty cup down. "I have been widowed for almost as long as I have been married; I could have rebuilt my life in Uzu in that time. But I did not wish to."

"You had a new home."

"I did."

Tobirama pours another round of tea as he thinks about her words. "Who is living in my house now?"

Baachan's chakra flinches. "Kurinma claimed it," she says quietly. "But then with Chirinma's death, Aoi-chan needed a smaller house to run so as to take on extra work to feed the children. So Kurinma has moved back into the larger house with Kyōka and Zafu and their children; Aoi and her little ones live in your former home now." She looks up at him. "She didn't lose the baby, but it was a near thing; Rika-chan thinks it's likely to be born premature after this."

So his home now houses the heavily-pregnant wife of a recently-dead cousin once removed –a cousin who swung a sword down over him while he slept, intending murder– and her two children; Tobirama honestly doesn't _want_ it back. Especially not if Kurinma was living there first; Kurinma has very different tastes to him, and with the lack of hostilities will have had both the time and the energy to change things to his liking.

If he did go back, he'd need a new house. And it wouldn't be even a quarter as comfortable as his _current_ house.

Not that housing is a deciding factor, but…

If he was _unhappy_ with his current situation, he wouldn't _care_ about where he'd end up living if he got away. It's not _ideal_ , no, but… it's not often _frustrating_. He is contained yes, but he does not feel _stifled_.

"I am content," he admits quietly. "It is… there are things I would _like_ to change, but I also believe they are things that I _can_ change, given time." Izuna is not at all unyielding, and has shown herself willing to give him greater leeway in response to changing circumstances. Yes, he is still finding his feet after the latest change –unexpectedly leaving the Diplomatic Quarters– but once he does, he is sure he can win himself new concessions.

"Then I am pleased for my grandson, that his unexpected marriage has proved comfortable."

Tobirama picks up his new cup of tea to hide his swirling emotions. "Thank you, Baa-san."

What else _can_ he say, when faced with unexpected acceptance?


	38. Chapter 38

Tobirama spends the next two rounds of tea and one of the boxes of snacks asking his grandmother about how the Uzumaki bring in money, seeing as they certainly do _not_ hire out their fighting skills but are nonetheless comfortably well-off.

Baachan eyes him. "Did you see _none_ of this for yourself while you were visiting your cousins, Tobirama-kun?"

Tobirama suppresses the urge to squirm guiltily; he did _not_ get to know his coastal cousins as well as he could have, but that hadn't been _why_ he was visiting. "I was doing my best to learn more about fuuinjutsu, Baa-san." He can recognise in hindsight that he wasn't very polite to his various cousins and in-laws-to-be, but in his defence he'd only had six months –less than that even– and he'd been trying to pack as much study into that time as he possibly could. He did manage to get further than his tutors had expected him to in those scant months, but that had come at the cost of other opportunities as he determinedly pursued fuuinjutsu. He'd not had time to make friends, and after returning to the Senju had been too consumed by his many duties to give much thought to writing letters to unfamiliar kin.

"Didn't even make any friends to keep writing to you," Baasan says, shaking her head at him, "and only now realising what you missed out on."

"I _do_ write," Tobirama says grumpily, then remembers that the only person he writes to is Kei-san, and only one or two leopard-delivered letters per year. Not as often as he should, most likely, but it is as much as he was able to maintain.

Uzumaki Kei had taught him the basics of space-time fuuinjutsu, as well as quite a lot about sex, including –probably entirely incidentally– a good amount about his own preferences. Which boiled down mostly to 'not oiran or yūjo,' because nobody he's ever met who offers sexual services for money is actually _enjoying_ it very much, and that always makes him feel horribly awkward about the whole process.

Kei-san had been a relief in that respect; his first sexual experience at sixteen –with an objectively very nice working girl– had been _cripplingly_ awkward, but Kei-san had given him the confidence and skill to make his unfortunately unavoidable twentieth birthday gift of a night with a rather higher-class working woman much more manageable. He knows they _meant_ well by the gift, but hadn't considered how uncomfortable his sensing abilities made such encounters; when one's bed-partner is only willing to allow touch because you are paying them and you cannot look away from that, it makes intimacy very awkward.

Kei-san however had given him a very enjoyable starting point with Izuna.

He should probably write to Kei-san again; she's likely heard _something_ of all this mess and deserves something a bit more intelligible than rumours like the ones Izumi-san and Inamura-san were regaling him and Izuna with the other day.

His grandmother raises an eyebrow at him. "My grandson writes personal letters to Uzushio? To whom might they be addressed?"

"Uzumaki Kei; she was my tutor while I was there."

" _Was_ she now." Baasan smirks at him. "Did you learn much in the way of useful skills, grandson?"

Tobirama feels himself flush; before being married he'd _never_ have caught that innuendo, but unfortunately he has to take the bad with the good there. "Enough to get my marriage off on the right foot," he retorts.

Baasan chuckles at him. "You should write again, to let her know," she teases. "I'm sure she'd be _delighted_ to hear you're making good use of her teachings."

"I'll ask Izuna," Tobirama says; he's not sure letter-writing to Uzumaki is something that Izuna can count as a domestic freedom, as opposed to something that might threaten the clan and therefore Tajima can ban. "But what _do_ the Uzumaki do? Beyond fishing and fuuinjutsu, of course."

"Grandson, fuuinjutsu is not a 'what;' it is a 'how,' as you should be well aware," Baasan scolds him lightly, then settles into a more didactic pose; Tobirama settles in to listen.

Maybe knowing more about what their coastal cousins do will give him a better idea of how the Senju could change to benefit from peace. They can't imitate the Uzumaki, of course, but it might well give him new ideas of how they can leverage the skills his clan _does_ have for peaceful profit.

* * *

Noon is announced by Kiso knocking loudly on the door of the chashitsu and asking to give 'Baa-tan' her present. His grandmother is of course absolutely _delighted_ to accept the sloppy crown of wisteria and carnations from her new great-grandson –and she does not hesitate to inform Kiso that he is her _first_ great-grandchild– and put it on her head, before politely excusing herself from lunch and heading home again, graciously accepting the 'offered' escort to the border.

Tobirama has no doubt she will arrive with the flower crown still firmly in place, then make Anija choke on his food at lunch by asserting that it is from 'her eldest great-grandchild.' She might catch a few other people out as well.

Over lunch Kiso demands to be told _everything_ about 'new Baa-tan' but is swiftly distracted by Tobirama's opening mention of Uzushio, so instead Tobirama spends the meal describing the high cliffs, the white stuccoed buildings with the roofs that catch rainwater in mazes, the bright paint, the stumpy trees, the sandy beaches, the gulls, the fishing boats and the Uzumaki themselves, all redheads to a man –or more accurately to a woman, as they rather significantly outnumber the men– and most of them learning fuuinjutsu almost from the cradle. Even if they have little interest in the discipline once older, they are certainly all rather more literate than most Senju care to bother with.

After the meal Kiso rushes to his blocks and toys rather than outside, settling in and mumbling unintelligibly to himself as he sets them out in the middle of the entrance room. Tobirama glances at Izuna –she is simply fond and pleased, evidently this is normal– then hands the empty bowls to Naka-Dragon and thanks her for the food she had prepared for his hosting efforts that morning. The older woman politely accepts his thanks, then slyly suggests he find something to do with his wife that will give Hayami-chan 'something else to fuss over.'

Tobirama glances at Izuna. "Does my wife have any suggestions?"

Izuna smirks at him. "Quite a few," she agrees quietly, "but first we have to put Kiso-kun down for his nap."

Tobirama glances at the wooden blocks and animal toys scattered around the toddler and being stacked up into little towers. "I do not think he will go quietly."

"Which is why we're going to cheat," Izuna confides. "If we get the futon out of your room and lay it out for him in the front room, then he'll either lie on it himself when he gets tired or we can move him to it once he succumbs on the tatami."

"Sneaky." Avoid the entire tantrum that interrupting playtime would incur, and still ensure the boy is properly rested.

"Then after that, I thought you might like to meet Keigetsu-chan."

Kiso's infant cousin. The one he abandoned to die slowly from cold and hunger, having slain all those who would have seen to her care. "You said she wasn't weaned yet," Tobirama manages, staring at the tatami in front of his knees.

"She isn't," Izuna replies, shuffling closer and letting her shoulder just touch his. "But she needs to be used to both of us holding her and doing things with her before then. Depending on how my pregnancy progresses I might end up breastfeeding her, to make the transition easier." She shrugs. "Too early to tell right now, but early enough that we do need to start helping care for Kei-chan."

Tobirama really _doesn't want to_. But. But he _promised_.

Izuna's knees are now next to his, covered by silk gauze in vibrant iris purple printed with flowering bottle gourd and hovering damselflies, the same that she wore on the day the ceasefire was announced. The obi she's wearing with it this time however is the white one with the orange damasked fish and blue-grey swirls he's seen before.

"You don't _have_ to come today, Treasure," his wife says very softly. "But I am going, and I intend to bring her back here for a few hours so that Shirushi-chan and Obihiro-kun can have some alone-time. I can stay in the study."

Tobirama struggles for his voice. "That is acceptable," he manages. "Do you have something new I could read?" He might play with Kiso later, once the boy wakes from his nap –and the toddler is already faltering, he should get the futon out– but until that he is going to _need_ a distraction.

"Historical, scientific or literary?"

Tobirama loves his wife _so much_. "Historical or literary, please." Something distracting that he won't find himself thinking up ways to test theories from, tests that he won't be able to put into practice.

"Historical literature it is then." His wife's chakra bubbles mischievously. "Anything in particular you'd like?"

Tobirama is reminded of the mystery of his fan. "Is 'General Stands Above Me' a book or a play?"

Izuna's chakra does a funny wobble. "It's a book that was turned into a play," she says blandly. "Quite a popular book, too."

"Can you find me a copy then? And one of whatever that fan of yours with the peonies and the shoe is alluding to."

"The Peony Pavilion," Izuna says, voice still utterly bland. "As you wish, Treasure; they are certainly both _historical_." She pauses. "I think I have 'The Peony Pavilion' here; I've also got 'The Great Sage of Evil', which is another _very_ popular subject for fans." She pauses. "Not very popular in-clan though; mostly because it has a _lot_ of walking dead and the necromancer does _not_ get incinerated on principle."

Tobirama suspects there's a joke he's missing here, but unless he reads the books he's not going to find out what it _is_. "I will take those to start with, then."

Izuna kisses his cheek. "Then I shall fetch them for you while you lay out Kiso-kun's bed, and after that change my obi so I am fit to be seen in public."

"Are you _ever_ fit to be seen in public, Lord-Wife?"

"Hush you." She kisses his mouth this time, silencing any further teasing commentary he might have made, then takes herself off to her study.

Tobirama also gets up and heads to his room to fetch the futon, then lays it out in the front room. Kiso is already nodding, so Tobirama simply picks him up and lays him down on the futon, one hand pressed gently on the boy's back as he grumbles.

By the time Izuna comes out with the novels, Kiso is fast asleep.

* * *

It turns out that 'The Peony Pavilion' is a play, and the novelisation Izuna supplies him with –written by a famous art-name even _he_ recognises– is, as suspected, extremely raunchy. The entire first half of the book is in fact a long and very explicit love affair, described in passionately titillating detail. Tobiarma would have skipped ahead through it, except that the character development is oddly compelling and the two lovers are bright, flawed and unexpectedly _real_.

Then the entire lifelong affair is revealed to be a dream and Tobirama almost throws the book across the room in disgust. The only reason he _doesn't_ is that the young lady protagonist finds this just as much as a betrayal as he does, and is not shy about declaring her horror and misery. Then she faints, is found unconscious by her family and lapses into a coma, which the doctor summoned by her father somehow misdiagnoses, pronouncing her dead and prompting the entire family to fall into mourning as her body is laid out in the family shrine in preparation for her burial.

What kind of quack practitioner is this doctor? Yes, those who fall unconscious and do not wake are increasingly unlikely to do so once a week has passed, and the care and feeding of such becomes increasingly onerous as time passes, but that's no reason to bury her before her lungs have ceased to draw breath or her heart has entirely ceased to beat! He focused more on medical ninjutsu than pharmacy, but he knows there are medicines –poisons, truthfully, but all medicines are poisons when incorrectly dosed– that slow the vitals almost to nothing so that the medics can take their time to focus on delicate work. The protagonist had not been exposed to such –her lethargy was a wound to her spirit, not her body– but as in those cases, given time she would eventually revive.

Tobirama firmly puts the book down and leaves the room to use the toilet and refill his pitcher of cold ama-cha; there is a respectable amount of story left, so it probably won't end in pointless tragedy. Not that he _minds_ reading tragedies, but he likes to know they are a tragedy from the outset, and are also partly instigated by the choices of the protagonists themselves, not simply _inflicted_ on them; stories about the grinding inevitability of an unhappy fate irritate him.

There are three more novels stacked on top of the low shelves in the iori room outside his fusuma; Tobirama leaves them there for now. The shōji leading to the front room are open, revealing that Kiso is no longer sleeping, but the toddler is not actually there. The shōji leading to Izuna's study are also slightly open.

Tobirama turns the other way, heading for the kitchen and the bathhouse. Briefly splashing cold water on his face helps him to regain a little composure and to remind himself that Izuna said it was _fine_ that he didn't want to see the baby just yet.

He should have talked to Baachan about this. But it slipped his mind entirely in favour of more pleasant and pressing things, including what all his still-living relatives have been getting up to in his absence, and now she's gone and he can't very well ask her to come _again_ in a day or so, not when both clans are busily preparing to receive an envoy from the Aburame.

Tobirama feels _very guilty_ about not wanting to see the baby just yet, but he's also uncomfortably aware that seeing the baby will make his crimes that much more real. He believes Izuna, but _seeing_ the child he so wronged is–

He doesn't _want_ to have Kiso as an audience for however that goes.

Walking back into his room with a fresh jug of cold hydrangea-leaf tea, Tobirama pauses after opening his fusuma; he can hear soft singing.

It's Izuna; of course it is. But the _song_ …

"…and on that day, that not-so-distant day, when you are far away and free; if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me. And though it's clear, thought it was always clear, that this was never meant to be; if you happen to remember, stop and think of me. Think of Tsuyu when the trees were green; don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned; imagine me, trying too hard to court you from my mind. Think of me – _please say you'll think of me_ – whatever else you choose to do; there will never be a day when I won't think of you!"

Tobirama grabs the novels off the shelf and _flees_ into his bedroom, closing the fusuma firmly behind him and blessing his inability to access chakra; without it he can't hear his wife's soft voice drifting through the house, still singing. What little he has heard will echo in his ears as it is.

 _Only_ an Uchiha would use a song for saying goodbye to a former beloved as a child's lullaby. Firmly shoving any _other_ reasons the song might be upsetting to the back of his mind, Tobirama pours himself more tea and opens 'The Peony Pavilion' with wilful interest.

His perseverance is rewarded: in this chapter the male protagonist is _finally_ introduced properly. It seems there may yet be a happy ending for the two lovers.

* * *

Tobirama determinedly opens the subject of Keigetsu the following morning after breakfast, immediately after Kiso has been handed over to Midori-chan.

"I need to talk to you, Lord-Wife."

Izuna eyes him, concern clear in her chakra; Tobirama isn't sure what his colouring looks like right now, but it probably isn't great; he is _not_ looking forward to this.

"Where would you like to talk, Treasure?"

"Your music room," Tobirama decides; it is as far from the kitchen and Naka-Dragon as it is possible to get while staying in the house. "We could have tea later, but not right away."

"Of course."

Of course, once he is sitting next to his wife _in_ her music room, fiddling with the long sleeves of his rich blue pampas-grass print summer jōfu, it is much harder to say what he wants to. His mind keeps chasing itself in circles.

He should just talk. Izuna _listens_ , it won't matter if he's a bit incoherent.

"Please tell me what's upsetting you, Treasure," Izuna requests, gently taking his hand and rubbing her thumb across his palm. "I want to help."

Tobirama takes a breath. "I don't want to see Keigetsu," he says, cringing at how that sounds but unwilling to stop because he's _talking_ now and if he stops he's not going to find any words at all _ever_ , "because seeing her will make it _real_."

That wis a terrible explanation. Tobirama gropes for more words but his brain is giving him nothing to work with.

"Hn." Izuna sounds… considering. "It will make it real that you left a baby up a tree in the middle of winter."

" _Yes_."

Izuna lets go of his hand so as to wrap her arm around his shoulders, then grips his fingers again with her other hand. "What do you want to do, Treasure?"

"I can't, avoiding it won't _help_ ," Tobirama forges on, awkward but reassured that Izuna isn't condemning him out of hand for not wanting to keep his promise, "so I _shouldn't_ , but, not when Kiso's here."

"That's completely reasonable. In a few days' time perhaps, when Kiso is next away all afternoon? I can collect her while she's sleeping, so you can see her without needing to interact at all."

Tobirama breathes. That would be. Good, he thinks? A sleeping baby so he can just look at her, and if necessary run away and hide without making a spectacle of himself. And an entire afternoon gives him space to process in.

Izuna doesn't count as an audience; she's seen him weep and vomit and tremble incoherently with lust and has also been the target of more violence than he quite cares to remember. There's no point trying to maintain a façade; she can see right through it.

"I would appreciate that."

His wife kisses the side of his neck. "Do you want to talk about it more now, or?"

Tobirama squeezes her fingers; he does not particularly _want_ to talk about it, no. "I read 'The Peony Pavilion' yesterday," he says instead.

"Did you enjoy it, Treasure?" He can _hear_ Izuna grinning at him.

"It was very engaging," Tobirama says blandly. "How did my Lord-Wife come by a fan with that particular theme?"

She hums, head resting on his shoulder. "Well, I attended a performance of the play! And the actor playing the young hero just so happened to be an old acquaintance, and he introduced me to the rest of the cast and also gave me some promotional material to keep. Including several prints featuring various cast-members, and that fan. I also have a peony, stone lantern and grass print kimono somewhere; it's cut for a man, you'd look very good in it."

"I'm sure you would think so," Tobirama says dryly, amused despite the clear evidence that Izuna not only spends time with geisha and oiran, but actors and other entertainers of dubious repute as well. "They were _gifts_ , not bought?"

Izuna lifts her head and turns so her lips brush his ear. "I was his alibi once," she murmurs quietly, hot breath teasing Tobirama's skin, "and so every time I encounter him he _insists_ on giving me things and introducing me to people."

Tobirama deduces easily that Izuna had _not_ been with the actor in question at the time when the alibi was required; she had in fact quite possibly been _committing_ the crime he was being suspected of. "Interesting people, at least?"

"Oh yes," his wife agrees cheerfully. "Very interesting! Though I believe some of them would flirt rather _less_ if they realised I was a woman."

Tobirama chuckles; he's heard other kinsmen talking –and occasionally complaining– about actors before, and that point has come up on various occasions. He's never experienced it personally, but then again he can recognise he's not very approachable for civilians.

"Did you have a favourite section?" His wife asks teasingly, nudging him.

"Of 'The Peony Pavilion'?" Tobirama specifies. "I enjoyed the chain of personal connections that led to the hero's release." They'd even been hinted at in the heroine's dream as pre-existing social bonds, which had been very clever indeed. The hero's sister is on good terms with an older cousin, who is one of the emperor's concubines, so when the hero is imprisoned for grave-robbery by the heroine's father, the sister sends a message to her cousin, who in turn sends a respected doctor to ascertain the heroine's good health and testify before the emperor that she is not dead. Thus the hero is released and the two protagonists are able to marry, presumably to then go on and enjoy a life similar to the one dreamt of in the first half of the book.

The terrible doctor who misdiagnosed the heroine was disgraced and lost all his clients, which had been extremely enjoyable to read about.

"That part _is_ very good," Izuna agrees, "though the earlier versions don't have it, I don't think; there it's more 'the emperor steps in, everyone rejoices.' But later authors felt that wasn't good enough and elaborated on the ending."

"It's a very good ending," Tobirama repeats firmly. He wouldn't have enjoyed it so much had the emperor just set everything to rights, rather than the secondary characters getting to prove their value and relevance.

"Hm." She kisses his neck, just above his collar and close enough to the lingering bruise there to give him a tender shiver of sensation. "Seeing as the Aburame will be arriving tomorrow, would my treasure be pleased to receive his painted kimono today?"

"I would enjoy that," Tobirama decides, "especially if my Lord-Wife were also to make tea." The talk went easier than he thought it would, and Izuna has set the time for the confrontation with the infant _after_ the required meeting with their expected kuge visitors. He appreciates that very much; it lets him devote his focus on one thing at a time, rather than needing to juggle both at once.

"Then we shall have tea, and I shall present you with the last of what your pride has bought you," his wife teases him, nibbling on his ear. Tobirama elbows her half-heartedly, the sensation of her lips and teeth against the sensitive tissue sending heated shivers through him.

"My wife teases me."

"My treasure has shown repeatedly that he very much _enjoys_ being teased," she replies sweetly, then licks the sensitive spot just behind the hinge of his jaw. Tobirama twists to face her and grapples with her, knocking her down and rolling them both across the tatami in a playful wrestling match punctuated with heated kisses.

He eventually pins her under him, not that she was fighting very hard. "I _would_ enjoy undressing you and pleasuring you right here, right now," he murmurs, looking her directly in the eyes from barely a handspan away, "but I want my new clothes _first_. Then," he smirks down at her, "I can express my appreciation at _length_ afterwards." She smells _amazing_ and he's not sure if that's due to him being a lustful smitten fool or something relating to her pregnancy, but either way he _wants_ her. Wants that scent all over him, and to find out how much more delicious it becomes when mingled with her pleasure.

"My treasure wishes to have his wicked way with my body in my music room," Izuna says, voice breathy and chakra heated. "Your attentions would be _inspiring_ , Tobirama."

He kisses her, taking his time and gently rocking his body against hers. "I will take my chances with your musical profanity," he tells her upon pausing for breath, unable to keep either his desire or his amusement out of his voice, "but I want my kimono _first_."

"So _demanding_ ," Izuna complains mildly, eyes dancing and chakra playful as she strokes his jaw. "But I do very much enjoy indulging you, Treasure."

"Well you can indulge me with tea," he teases her back, rolling off her, "then with expensive clothing, then with your naked body, pliant and trembling under me as I pin you to the tatami."

"My treasure wishes to _impale_ me on his _sword_ ," his wife quips, also rolling up into a sitting position and theatrically eyeing his groin, "I may scream."

Tobirama smirks. "Please do; your desperation is music to my ears."

She shakes her head at him, grinning. "Tea first, then."

"Tea first," he agrees, leaning in for one last quick kiss before she gets up to leave the room in search of the promised drink and gifts.

* * *

Tea arrives with kusa daifuku; nominally two each, but Tobirama only eats one and actively places his second on his wife's plate. He knows now that her metabolism is higher than his and she is pregnant besides; watching her face light up as she realises he is _serious_ about giving it to her is a joy.

"So, in what order would you like to receive your painted kimono, Treasure?"

Tobirama thinks about it. "By obi, I think," he decides whimsically. "Give me an obi, then the outfit that goes with it. Or outfits, if there's more than one."

"Very well then." His wife hands him one of the smaller but more solid-looking parcels.

Given that a painted kimono is inevitably a tomesode or visiting-wear, Tobirama is expecting a higher calibre of obi than the ones he received with his other summer kimono. Folding back the washi proves his expectations met: what is revealed is very lovely damask, nowhere near as sumptuously fine as his brocade obi –being a single layer with a plain weft and various different colours in the warp creating the designs– but almost as long. The pattern is of an arched bridge bracketed by willows alternating with an eight-plank bridge surrounded by irises, with the intervening space featuring clouds above that blend into waves below the next pattern set. The warp-threads are undyed silk –and thus so is the pattern background– but the bridges are simple shades of brown, the willows are willow-coloured, the irises have purple flowers and the water and clouds include shades of pale blues and greys.

It's a very lovely obi that will go well with several of his other summer kimono, increasing the formality of the overall outfit with minimal actual effort. The obi cords are equally lovely, a deep iron-blue.

"This is very fine," he says, setting the obi cords aside and laying the obi across his lap pattern-side up, "but is it intended to be tied in a hanging knot?" It looks long enough to be.

"Well, painted kimono _are_ generally visiting-wear, Treasure," his wife says lightly, "so signalling _is_ required. But I can teach you a few slightly less feminine hanging knots that you can tie yourself for these."

"I look forward to it." Tobirama carefully folds up the lovely obi again, surreptitiously running his fingertips over the clever pattern one more time before setting it aside. His wife promptly passes across a larger package.

Opening it reveals a fine linen nagajuban, bleached white –confirming that yes, it being bleached _does_ enhance the transparency– and printed with clusters of slightly abstract morning glory flowers in the shade of purple called 'half-colour', because it requires half as much murasaki root as 'full' colour does. It's very beautiful and ridiculously expensive; his wife _again_ using the most precious of dyes on something he will be wearing next to his skin.

And this isn't even _silk_ ; that's almost _worse_.

"And now I am curious what kimono my wife has chosen for me to wear over this," he muses, setting aside the under-layer and its matching lightweight sash.

Izuna hands him a fresh parcel –this one wrapped in a blue and white bird-print furoshiki– then pours them both more tea and picks up her plate with its gifted daifuku, watching him avidly as she takes a bite.

Opening the furoshiki reveals blue. Water Country concubine-blue in fact; the vivid cyan is unmistakeable. Unfolding the leno-weave gauze across his lap reveals a multitude of beautifully detailed sailing boats in cheerful colour, no two the same and a lively mix of shapes and styles, interspersed with very thin ripples that add depth and texture to the scene. Tobirama shakes the garment out completely, eyes darting across the stylised flotilla with its clearly recognisable Water Country shuinsen, kitamae-bune from Sea Country, taru-kaisen from Fire's south coast, the instantly-recognisable asymmetric red sails and carved figureheads of Uzumaki fishing boats and many more less familiar shapes.

A bustling harbour of a kimono, brilliant and vivid. Tobirama can almost forgive the clearly-signalled status colour of the background and the hanging sleeves, which look to be the same length as the pampas-grass print kimono he is currently wearing.

Actually that's a lie; he's already forgiven Izuna for those choices. This is a very lovely kimono, and it being _that_ shade of blue means he will be able to get away with _not_ wearing a hanging obi with it if he wants to; the greenfinch obi would not look out of place, in fact, and neither would his black obi.

Or, indeed, the murasaki shibori one.

He lets his eyes linger on the boats again, sailing across the kimono skirt is a faintly triangular sweep from left front to right front across the back, and over the left chest, right upper back and hanging sleeves. Shades of brown, yellow, green, red and white are most prominent, standing out strongly against the rippling blue ground, but there are hints of dark blue here and there and flashes of both purple and deep black.

"This is magnificent," he says, looking up to meet his wife's eyes. "I will very much enjoy wearing it, so look forward to having more occasions to do so."

"I am sure such occasions will arise, Treasure," Izuna says lightly, her delight in his enjoyment explicit in her chakra. Tobirama carefully folds the kimono back up again and shuffles closer so as to catch and lightly kiss her fingers as he accepts the next parcel.

This linen nagajuban is a very pale shade of blue, which also draws attention to said garment's transparency. Unfolding it slightly reveals it is printed with hydrangea flowers in peony pink, the large clusters of blossoms bracketed by bright grass-green leaves. It's very aesthetic and seasonally appropriate, although it will only be just-about visible at his collar and sleeve-cuffs.

"I am now very curious about what outer layer is intended to go over this," Tobirama muses as he folds the nagajuban up again. It will likely be in a complimentary shade rather than a contrasting one but that does not narrow the field by much, even if he excludes those shades she has already given him summer kimono in.

His wife smiles cheerfully as she hands over another package. "Well then Treasure, wonder no more!"

Folding back the washi, the first thing Tobirama sees is purple. _Not_ murasaki though, thankfully; this is a much bluer and brighter purple. Hollyhock purple, maybe? One of those other purples, anyway. Unfolding the mesh-weave silk reveals very pale grey fishing-nets painted large over large sections of the kimono, highlighted here and there in silver, overlapping and interspersed with very dark green freshwater algae –also occasionally highlighted in lighter green and silver– and an impressively realistic range of eels, catfish and loach, all in bright shades of brown that stand out surprisingly well against the purple. Some of the fish are swimming free, but most are behind the nets; none are actually entangled though, as that would not be aesthetic.

Looking more closely, Tobirama realises that some of the fish have embroidered accents beyond the silver highlights; details picked out here and there, adding to the startling realism of the design.

It will go well enough with the bridge obi –the shades of brown are very similar, and the motifs are not repeated between the two– but Tobirama feels that a different obi could easily look _better_. However this outfit very likely does _not_ conform with the sumptuary restrictions regarding concubines –the only one of which he is subject to is the requirement to signal his status– so he would have to wear a long dangling obi with it.

"This kimono is a masterpiece; I look forward to showing it off." It even has fairly modest hanging sleeves, no longer than the sakura dragon kimono.

"I look forward to seeing you in it, Treasure."

Well, his crab obi might well be long enough to tie in a hanging knot?

Izuna's chakra is bright and warm as he takes his time poring over the intricately realistic detail on the shading, both painted and embroidered, so Tobirama feels no inclination to rush himself. He drinks his tea –it is cool enough now– and then goes back to admiring the use of colour to create the illusion of shape and texture.

Then he remembers that Izuna promised him _three_ kimono –and that _he_ has promised to have sex with her before Kiso returns for lunch– and reluctantly folds the summer-weight silk garment up again.

"I will admire it again later," he says firmly, "but I have other gifts to open if I am to have to the time to keep _my_ promises to _you_ , Izuna."

"Well then, who am I to delay you," his wife says, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Tobirama smirks back at her as he accepts the most solid –and heavy– of the remaining parcels and sets about opening it.

It is, as he suspected, an obi. However it is a full-width _lined_ obi, no less long than the bridge damask and with very different patterns on each side. One side is almost plain, a sakura-grey ground printed with dove-grey waving lines in a tatewaku pattern, the lines perfectly staggered to form ovoid gaps.

The other side is however _vastly_ more colourful: a light onion-leaf blue-green ground painted with very fine white outlines of tachibana blossoms and leaves here and there, with regular 'openings' in the tree canopy coloured ibis-wing pink and filled with light-coloured lotuses, magnolias, plum-blossoms and thin-petalled chrysanthemums, along with a scattering of brightly patterned kaoi shells and vivid birds. Working his way along the very long obi, Tobirama manages to identify a crested kingfisher, a hoopoe, a fairy pitta, a green pigeon, a waxwing, a trio of bluetails, an oriole and a rosefinch, but there are a handful of other small birds in variously patterned brown that could be any number of things.

It's much easier to identify a bird by its call than by its plumage when it's just shades of brown.

"This will look lovely with my new purple summer visiting kimono," Tobirama says eventually; "rather _more_ lovely than the bridge obi will, although that will also work." The obi cords are a delicate washed-out orange, which will go well with this obi regardless of what kimono he is wearing under it.

Izuna nods. "The purple kimono will indeed go with both your new obi," she concedes, "but the bridge obi will in truth go well with _all_ your new summer kimono, while this one does not quite work with the bright blue."

Tobirama can see that, although the more sober lining of this obi _would_ look perfectly fine over his new boat-painted kimono. Then again, this particular new obi would probably look completely lovely on _any_ of his other kimono, with the possible exception of his fish kimono; it would lift the plainer outfits when worn painted-side out, then be more modestly effacing when worn reversed. It is possibly his most versatile obi yet –except for the black one, which truly goes with everything– and that has certain implications when it is long enough to tie in the concubine-required hanging knot for being seen in public.

Then again, given what Izuna has said about how she has no intention of _revealing_ he is her concubine…

Tobirama shakes his head; he's going to have to ask about that later. However it's likely tangled up in the 'husband' issue, so he'd probably do better to wait until Izuna has answered that, in case she clarifies this as well in passing.

"It will also look very fine with almost all my other kimono," he adds, smiling at his wife. "I look forward to having opportunities to wear it."

Izuna beams at him, her tattoo crinkling, then passes him the penultimate package.

This nagajuban is bright saffron yellow resist-printed with lilies and bellflowers, some of which have then been filled in with –Tobirama's lips twitch– bellflower blue. It's very cheerful and could probably be worn under the boat-painted kimono as well. Amusingly, being _yellow_ means the translucency of the fine linen is much less obvious.

Folding it back up, Tobirama eyes the last parcel where it sits innocuously by Izuna's thigh. There are a lot of different colours it could be, considering; he wonders which one it will be.

His wife flutters her eyelashes theatrically at him before handing over the last of his bribes; he is now entirely without pride, having sold it for summery silks and fine linen.

Tobirama opens the washi; he may as well finish finding out what his wife feels his pride is worth.

The kinsha chirimen of _this_ summer kimono is a vivid maple-leaf red, lovingly painted with curving grasses and other autumnal plants in a very subtly asymmetric sweep, the design reaching right up the back in places, with further grasses and flowers across the shoulders and over the hanging sleeves. The sleeves are actually no longer than the ones on the purple kimono; hanging, but not enough to be explicitly feminine.

The painted decoration is very bright, but also very harmonious: white and yellow grasses, yellow-green and blue-green flowering plants with white and occasionally deep blue flowers, more grasses and leaves in deep red-browns in the background to convey a sense of depth, all scattered with fireflies lit up in a very light washed-out orange to give the impression of an autumn sunset.

Autumn colours and plants are very aesthetic for summer wear, harking forwards to cooler days to come, and despite the vivid contrasts this kimono _will_ look excellent with his new long double-sided obi. It will also, as Izuna indicated, look very fine with the bridge obi, but in a completely different way.

A rich, vivid kimono contrasting with a pale obi belongs to a colour scheme called tamayura, which is intended to impart a sense of strength in transience. Both this and the purple summer kimono match this aesthetic, no matter which of his new obi he wears with them. Strength in transience is a very shinobi idea, as well as a very summery one; Tobirama decides he likes the thought that his wife has put into his new wardrobe.

"My wife has not stinted in her choices," he says as he folds the red kimono up again.

"My Treasure does not feel cheated?" Izuna inquires archly, having produced a folding fan to hide her arch smirk behind; hiding her mouth in no way conceals the set of her brows or the glee in her chakra.

"I feel my Lord-Wife fully appreciates the value of my pride," Tobirama replies mildly as he finishes folding up the garment and sets it aside. "Now I should put these in my tansu, so they do not get crumpled while I am expressing _my_ appreciation."

Izuna flutters her fan theatrically. "Is there anything you would have me do in the meantime, Tobirama?"

"Move the tea-tray," he tells her with a smirk of his own as he piles up his well-earned bribes; "I'd hate to knock anything over."


	39. Chapter 39

The Aburame arrive the following day; Tobirama finds out mid-afternoon, when a messenger enters the Amaterasu Residence's garden as he is carefully tossing Kiso up into the air and catching him, to delighted toddler screaming and a refrain of "Ageh! Ageh!" as Otoki looks on bemusedly from where he is sprawled on the grass, cringing every now and then and flattening his ears against the piercing volume. Tobirama sympathises with the leopard, but agonisingly shrill volume is a function of childhood and he _much_ prefers this to unhappy silence.

Otoki visiting today means that only Kyōnari has not come to see him since Tōnari placed a Claim on Kiso, but Tobirama isn't too surprised by that; Kyōnari is a very eager hunter but a reluctant babysitter. Not that Otoki or Chikaki are particularly _enthusiastic_ about small human cubs, but that's more to do with their youth. Shizuki is rather more entranced, but he's older and starting to get to the age where he is becoming interested in mating, and with that comes a greater tolerance for childish antics.

His summons age more slowly than he does by virtue of being summons, despite their childhood being dramatically shorter; a snow leopard is out of cub-hood by their fifth year –which is also when they start learning human speech– but the adolescent stage lasts about twenty years and adulthood seems to stretch into the centuries, if Tōnari is to be believed.

Chikaki is the youngest of his summons; he got her barely out of cub-hood and she will not mature for another fifteen years. Otoki is next-youngest, almost twenty years of age now; Shizuki is twenty-seven, recently adult and just starting to make overtures to seasonal partners.

Tobirama will not get to summon any of Shizuki's potential future cubs unless the leopard makes a strong enough impression on a seasonal mate for her to allow him to become a more long-term partner, and even then it will likely be a full five years after the birth before he can so much as meet them with an eye to winning them over; snow leopards are matriarchal.

If Tōnari or Kyōnari had cubs on the other hand, as their summoner he would likely be heavily involved in raising them. However Kyōnari is very pointedly disinterested in either mating or cubs, and Tōnari hasn't had a cub since Chikaki, who was presented to him by her gleeful mother as a scrawny pre-adolescent the year he turned fifteen.

Chikaki is probably never going to stop calling him 'Nii-san'. It hurts less now than it did when he was fifteen.

Tobirama ignores the messenger, but can track the man's progress as much by Otoki's shift in focus as by the man's own chakra. It's an Uchiha, probably one of the younger Outguard; he enters the house and Izuna's office, then leaves again shortly after.

Tobirama has switched to swinging Kiso around in circles –to more joyful squealing, if at a slightly lower volume– when Izuna steps out onto the engawa to watch them. Setting Kiso on the grass –the toddler staggers drunkenly and falls over, giggling madly– he walks up to her, leaning in for a kiss.

"Do you need something, Lord-Wife?" He asks as Otoki ambles over to Kiso and nudges the boy with his nose, rolling him over onto his back; Kiso wriggles into a sitting position, still swaying and giggling.

"Half the Aburame party has arrived," Izuna tells him, taking his hand in hers and idly playing with his fingers. "My Lord-Father is greeting them, and informs me that he will be hosting a Yūzari-no-chaji in the Diplomatic Quarters for them come sunset, which we are expected to attend."

Tobirama feels his stomach sink and a chill overtake him despite the heat of the afternoon. Izuna reads his trepidation right off his face:

"Don't worry, we will be fourth and fifth guest respectively; the three Aburame will be guests of honour. My father wants us to be present so he can demonstrate you are indeed in good health before dialogue opens tomorrow, while denying our guests the opportunity to speak to you of your experiences before restitution for the offense enacted against you –and therefore against me– can be negotiated."

Ah. That makes a great deal of sense. "It is a great honour to attend a chaji hosted by the Uchiha Outguard head," Tobirama notes dryly, relieved that he will _not_ be the centre of attention.

"It is indeed and I unfortunately do not have an unlined tea kimono ready for you yet," Izuna admits ruefully, "but at least it is an evening ceremony, so you will hopefully not be uncomfortable." She pauses, fingers still caressing his hand. "I can walk you through a chaji with sharingan after we've put Kiso to bed, if that would help."

"I would be most grateful." His chakai is now comfortably fluent –as first guest at least; he would barely know where to start serving one– but Izuna has thus far spared him the formality of chaji. Evidently that is going to change. Perhaps at her father's instigation, but he is not so foolish as to not recognise that there would have been formal teas in his future regardless. "Half the Aburame party?"

"This is a mediation, and it was the Senju who requested it; the other four Aburame will be visiting them, to discuss their intent, hopes and goals, and to ascertain the overall tone of the negotiations."

Seven of them in total; considering that one Aburame can kill three trained warriors without lifting so much as a finger, it suggests they are taking matters very seriously _indeed_. "So half the Aburame are visiting each of the two parties undertaking the negotiation they are mediating, and then later tonight they will compare notes in time for tomorrow morning." He knows pavilions have been pitched down by the Uchiha's southern boundary in anticipation of these kuge guests, and that his brother has been seen growing pavilions of his own on the far side of the river for the negotiations to take place under; this is a far more complex undertaking than the ceasefire ordered by the daimyo the autumn before last.

Tobirama now knows enough about the traditions and practices of both clans to recognise that a genuine peace treaty will not be a quick process.

"That is, I believe, the intention." Izuna pauses. "It is very likely that, after my father had negotiated for my demanded restitution for the assassination attempt, your uncle will express a desire for further negotiations, to form a proper treaty between our clans. If that _is_ the case, negotiating such a thing will likely be deferred until the autumn, when the temperatures are no longer so stifling."

Tobirama nods; where is his wife going with this?

"In which case, the interim period will be used to arrange more hospitable temporary accommodations," his wife continues, "and you will likely be repeatedly invited to call upon whichever Aburame remain to oversee such. And, potentially, attend mixed gatherings with Senju guests."

Tobirama swallows. "I would be permitted to do so?"

Izuna smiles fondly at him, a pang shivering through her chakra. "I do not want to keep you from your kin," she says quietly, "and so long as these gatherings take place on Uchiha land, I do not see a reason to forbid them. However I may not be able to _attend_ them, given my pregnancy, in which case I would have to assign you a companion or else risk my Lord-Father selecting one." She pauses. "Do also consider the awkwardness of travel without chakra, Treasure; someone would have to carry you."

Profoundly undignified, but not humiliating enough to make the prospect lose its appeal. "I have no objections to your assigning me a guard; several guards even, if that will satisfy your father's paranoia."

"Then there may well be occasions for you to wear your summer visiting kimono, Treasure," his wife tells him, lifting his hand to her mouth so she can kiss his knuckles.

Kiso is currently sprawled on his front, happily enthralled with some small thing in the grass –possibly a beetle– as Otoki sits beside him, twitching tail-tip denoting similar focus. Tobirama leans in to kiss his wife again.

"You will bring Keigetsu-chan over the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon."

"As we agreed, Treasure."

Tobirama pauses, then decides to risk it: "And on the matter of husbands?"

Izuna's eyes drop. "I am going to visit an aunt tomorrow morning, while Kiso is out, for a chance to articulate my thoughts to a discreet ear," she says quietly, "and if Kiso agrees to spend the afternoon elsewhere –hopefully arrangements will be made today– we will have privacy for our discussion."

"An entire morning, all to myself," Tobirama teases gently; "is my wife not afraid I will get up to mischief in her absence?"

"And who is to say, Tobirama, that the _purpose_ of my leaving you to your own devices is not to _find out_ what mischief you get up to unsupervised?" Izuna teases him back, tugging playfully on his hand until he leans in for another kiss.

"Even if that involves filling the bath-house pool with cold water for my leopards to play in? Or picking every single flower in the garden?" He asks between kisses, wrapping his other arm around her back and sliding her kimono collar down a little further so he can lean in and kiss the faint scars his teeth have left on her neck.

He's very sure the seal on his back would not keep him from doing either of those examples, or any number of other things calibrated for maximum annoyance and minimal long-term impact.

His wife shakes with amusement against his chest, her free hand stroking lightly behind his ears. "Swim naked if the koi pond if it pleases you, Treasure; just be aware that upon making oneself a subject of clan gossip, nobody will _ever_ let you forget it."

Tobirama works his way back around her throat and jawline to her mouth, kissing her as heatedly as the late spring sunshine will allow for. "I will keep that in mind," he rumbles, finally pulling back, "and tailor my efforts accordingly."

His wife's faintly anticipatory chuckles are music to his ears.

* * *

Dressing for the Tea Ceremony is vaguely nerve-racking; Tobirama wishes very much he had a proper men's obi to wear with his brown damask kimono, but he only has the orange one –not _remotely_ suitable for Tea– and so he will be wearing the black obi with the seedpod and willow design, along with the set of cypress-brown obi cords he made for himself while waiting for the ceasefire to be signed. After tying his obi in a drum bow and redoing his hair, Tobirama stares at his reflection in the mirror over his wash-stand and wonders what on earth he's doing.

It's been seventy days since Izuna kidnapped him. _Seventy days_. His life has changed beyond recognition and is _still_ changing, all in a little over two months.

It's far too late to second-guess himself; Tobirama steps out from behind the screen, kneels to gently ruffle Kiso's hair and press a kiss to the sleeping boy's forehead, rubs Tōnari behind the ears then heads out through the fusuma for his promised tutorial before the chaji. Having a more clearly-defined idea of what will happen and how he should act will do a lot to settle his nerves.

Seeing his wife with her hair done in a very feminine style, decorously dressed in deceptively plain deep purple with the sand-brown obi painted with pebbles and starfish, sappanwood obi cords blending in well with the shades of grey and brown-tinted pink, does a lot to help him find his centre. It reminds him that he is only being invited to this so the Aburame can attest to his health; the main event will be between Tajima and his guests. Even Izuna is attending as a prop; little is expected of her, and even less of him.

"Please take care of me," he jokes lightly as she takes his hands, eyes lighting up with sharingan.

She grins at him, chakra bubbling with joy. "Always, Tobirama."

* * *

Tea Ceremony is intended as a restful experience. Tobirama would not ever have believed being served sakura-blossom tea and a long meal with many small courses by Uchiha Tajima could be _restful_ , but the man is _extremely_ good at moderating both his chakra and his physical presence to comply with the spirit of the Tea: the Outguard Head is self-effacing and muted, not so much veiled as _clear_ and empty of anything other than the ritual of serving.

So Tobirama eats neatly, quietly and measuredly, politely pretending not to notice the tiny beetle perching on his collar that landed there as he was being introduced to Aburame Shisaku, who is leading this very polite negotiation. He is sure it is not the only beetle he is currently wearing, given that Aburame Shibun and Shijō were also introduced, but pointing that out would most certainly be _impolite._

Given the dark quartz lenses all three Aburame are wearing despite the late hour and the fading light, Tobirama vaguely has to wonder if there's any truth to the tall tales that Aburame are all blind and use their hives to 'see' with. He's not _thinking_ about it –this is a Tea Ceremony– but the idea is floating idly at the back of his mind, along with the various other rumours he's overheard. Like the one about them having no eyeballs at all. And the one about all Aburame being men. Or all being women, despite the evident facial hair two of these guests have.

It's hard to get a solid read on gender through a stiff coat, especially when the shinobi in question mostly smell like chitin. It's not noticeably _easier_ through deep grey kimono with subtly different tiny kasuri patterns, either; that all three of these Aburame are wearing narrow masculine obi and were introduced to him with neutral pronouns makes him wonder if their clan does it entirely on purpose. Not so very different from the methods the Uchiha use to obscure their female warriors, and fulfilling a similar purpose.

Or whether the rumour about their gender being as well-defined as that of their beetles –which is to say, not at all– has any substance to it. There are tall tales about how all the Aburame you see are sexless workers, born of a queen who never leaves their clan grounds and is ferociously defended by elite warriors. Nobody's ever invaded Aburame territory and lived to tell the tale, so the lurid stories live on.

Tobirama thinks it is more likely that Aburame are just as human as any other shinobi. After all, the Uchiha also wear concealing coats and all seem to be male in the field, but these dramatic and ridiculous rumours do not get bandied about concerning _them_.

Well, other than the one about Uchiha being demons. Because of course only demons would have spinning red eyes that give people nightmares. Tobirama would roll his _own_ eyes at the imaginations of civilians, except that he has relatives who thoughtlessly repeat these fabrications as well; legitimate reasons to fear eye-contact only go so far.

The wagashi served after the final course of the meal are beautiful, each one individually crafted and delicately shaped like a many-petalled flower, elaborately dyed so no two are at all the same. Tobirama eats his carefully, then there is a pause in which the guests go outside into the candle-lit garden so the tea room –in this instance, the Diplomatic Quarters' tatami room– can be swept and refreshed.

Aburame Shijō takes this opportunity to gravely compliment the starfish on Izuna's obi, which leads into a leisurely conversation on crustaceans that Aburame Shisaku joins in with. Aburame Shibun however turns to Tobirama:

"Have you attended a firefly viewing party yet, Uchiha-dono?"

It is deeply jarring to be addressed as 'Uchiha-dono'. However that is the address Tajima established before this Tea, so he has to live with it. "I have not, Aburame-dono," Tobirama concedes, "however my Lord-Wife's koi pond is large and lush, so I have been able to watch the fireflies over it of late." And the dragonflies during the day, which Kiso finds delightful.

"They are lovely, are they not?" Shinbun says, softness colouring their tone. "One of summer's fleeting joys, all the more precious for its brevity. A singularly beautiful display." Their lips twitch: "even those who do not care for insects will praise the beauty of summer fireflies."

Tobirama smirks sympathetically. "My Lord-Wife's young cousin and ward is very taken with the insects in her garden; I have admired many different beetles lately."

He doesn't mention that the light patterns of the fireflies over her koi pond are very different to the ones he is used to seeing over the Senju vassals' rice paddies.

"Did the little entomologist bring you anything particularly memorable, Uchiha-dono?" Shinbun asks mischievously.

"The jewel beetle was very pretty," Tobirama replies lightly, "but the rhinoceros beetle was a bit much." Thankfully Otoki was able to convince Kiso that he should _not_ try to pick up the mantis, but Tobirama was still dragged over to admire it as it munched on the decapitated corpse of a cricket.

"Terrible, that so many children grow out of that joy; I shall pray that your small ward does not, Uchiha-dono."

Tobirama smiles at the thought of a fully-grown Kiso still bringing him beetles to admire, but then it is time for the tea ceremony to continue and the conversation ends.

* * *

Once the chaji is finally over and they have stepped outside the Diplomatic Quarters' front gate, Tobirama turns on his wife and takes both her hands in hers.

"Will my Lord-Wife take me to her bed tonight?" He asks, maliciously inconsiderate of their audience. Reading surprise in the chakra of their guests and bemused ire in Tajima's is well within his ability at this range.

Izuna smiles at him. "Would it please my concubine were I to do so?" She asks teasingly, revealing her willingness to enable him in this.

"Very much," Tobirama replies shamelessly, lifting one of her hands so he can lightly kiss her knuckles, then swapping to the other one. Kiso will be asleep in his bedroom right now, babysat by Tōnari, so he will have to either retreat to his own bed to sleep or move Kiso so as to keep his promise to the toddler of sleeping beside him, but that will be no trouble.

"Then let us go home, Treasure," his wife says, chakra bright and laughing as she tugs him close and rests her forehead against his, "So that I might take you to bed and you might discharge your marital duties to be."

"My Lord-Wife's pleasure is not a _duty_ ," Tobirama demurs, tone light but utterly serious. Once yes, but no longer; he does not believe she will ever be a duty again.

She smiles at him, soft and heated. "Well then, Tobirama," she murmurs, tone achingly intimate, "we shall seek joy together."

He grins at her, wide and bright and toothy, then lets go of one of her hands so he can tug her onwards. "To home then, Lord-Wife!"

She laughs, heedlessly cheerful as she catches up with him and gently steers him around a corner. "So _eager_ to please me," she teases gently.

"Oh, but your pleasure brings me infinite joy," Tobirama banters back, leaning in to nuzzle her throat and cheek; out of sight of the Aburame, who have so kindly agreed to assist in brokering the reconciliation between their clans, he is willing to go considerably further than simply kissing his wife's hands. "The scent of your body and chakra as you peak in my arms, the hitch in your voice, the trembling of your willing flesh; no other triumph can _possibly_ compare."

"My treasure _thoroughly_ enjoying the many, many victories his position allows him," Izuna says lightly, leaning in to nuzzle him back.

Tobirama smirks, wrapping an arm around her waist as he stops walking and lightly nipping her ear. "That _position_ being," he rumbles wickedly in her ear, "fully sheathed within you as you _beg_ me to fuck you harder."

Izuna shivers in his arms, lust coiling eagerly in her chakra. "I am taking you home and dragging you to my bedroom," she informs him tone light but steely, "and then you are going to strip naked and wash yourself while I watch, and then _I_ will strip naked and wash while _you_ watch. And then I am taking you to bed and you are going to _put your back into it_."

Tobirama lets himself react to her demand, her desire, her _eagerness_ to give herself to him. "My Lord-Wife is so _commanding_ ," he teases, pressing up against her so she can feel his desire, "so _forceful_ , so _irresistible_. I may not last."

"If you are _concerned_ about your recovery time I can tweak the seal for you," she teases him back, pulling away and tugging him onwards.

"So _demanding,_ " Tobirama continues, letting himself be half-dragged along the road, "so determined to make me _earn_ my position in her household."

His wife glances back to eye him, her chakra acquiring a faint edge. "You were the one to invite yourself into my bed tonight, Treasure."

Tobirama quickly rephrases: "I _like_ that you ask, Izuna. I like that you tell me what you want, because when I know what you want I can decide if I want to give it to you. And I _want_ to give you the things you asked for tonight." He walks faster, catching up and leaning in to quickly kiss her. "And, just so you know, I am _still_ eagerly waiting for an opportunity to _thoroughly_ service you within your father's hearing, somewhere he cannot reasonably escape."

By the end of his hurried explanation Izuna has softened again, and his daring tease at the end makes her chuckle against his lips and pause to lightly spin them both around together before stepping through the front gate of the Amaterasu Residence.

"If we do get peace, I will likely have to go to court with my Lord-Father," she murmurs as they walk down the path, "and if I _do_ go and take you with me, the clan delegation would be sharing a suite."

Tobirama is abruptly, _deeply_ tempted to agree to attend court –even in women's clothing– _purely_ for this glorious opportunity. To inflict upon Tajima the same discomfort the man inspires in him, in any way he can contrive? "I can't persuade you to let me have my way with you in the Clan Hall's garden while he's working?" He asks as they take off their geta in the genkan, mostly to try and convince himself that he doesn't _want_ to attend Court as 'Uchiha Izuna's concubine'.

"So _spiteful_ ," his wife teases him laughingly, "wishing to torment my father for his narrow-minded misconceptions."

"That's not a 'no'," Tobirama notes gleefully as he follows her into her bedroom, where a jug of water waits on her wash stand.

"It's not," Izuna agrees with a chuckle, turning to kiss him, "but I am _not_ giving my brothers a show, so it'll have to wait until a day when they're both out of the compound. Which, seeing as Saburō is still being punished for his negligence, will take a while yet."

"Fair," Tobirama concedes; it's one thing to do this to spite his honoured father-in-law, quite another to make Madara avoid him for several weeks out of embarrassed mortification. He's not actually _seen_ Saburō since Tōka's escape so it's nice to hear what he's getting up to, even if that involves being punished for allowing Tōka to wheedle sensitive clan information out of him.

"But _then_ ," and oh her tone is _delightfully_ malicious, "if it would truly please you to _vigorously_ seduce me within his hearing, I will _happily_ show you some of the house I grew up in, and its garden."

"It would please me _very much_." Tobirama's still holding a grudge over that thoughtless accusation that so hurt Izuna on the day of the Banner Festival and has _every intention_ of reminding his _honoured_ father-in-law that he is both willing and free to exercise his agency as he wishes within the boundaries of his marriage to Izuna. Elsewhere he may be confined and caged, but _here_ he is heard and heeded.

"Then I will endeavour to arrange it." Izuna smiles sweetly at him. "Now strip and wash for me, Tobirama."

Tobirama grins again, reaching for the ties holding his obi knot in place. "As _you_ wish then, wife."

The aching flutter in her chakra at his words –and the rising heat in her scent and chakra as he slowly undresses for her eager gaze– is delightfully satisfying, if also _very_ stimulating. She smells _so good;_ he's not sure he _will_ last as long as he wants to after all this playful teasing.

Perhaps he should take the edge off now, under her appreciative eyes, so as to better serve her once she too is naked and ready for him? If he tells her why he wants to, he doesn't think she will be remotely opposed.

And indeed, she is not.

* * *

Every week on the day Kiso is packed off for the shared babysitting right after breakfast, Izuna spends the next hour in her music room, kneeling in front of that empty altar. Tobirama found this out last week, when he was left to his own devices after Izuna quietly excused herself.

This week he has a range of novels to choose from to pass the time; there is 'The Great Sage Of Evil' that his wife gave him the day before yesterday and that he is making slow headway through –it is written from a rather unusual perspective and the narrative seems to start in the middle of the plot– and also 'General Stands Above Me,' which Izuna set on his shelf at some point yesterday and he found this morning. There's also two rather hefty books both titled 'The Chronicle of Enki Palace,' with smaller markings on the spine indicating a first and second volume of what is presumably a fairly long saga.

He sets those aside for later; for the time being he will stick with 'The Great Sage Of Evil'. It's very interesting, reading a novel told from the perspective of a clearly villainous character.

He keeps a vague awareness of Izuna's location and general feel even as he opens the book, because that's just sensible. Naka-Dragon is in the kitchen, bustling normally and deceptively easy to ignore, but Tobirama makes sure he's tracking both women as he reads.

He's engrossed in the battle with the stone goddess statue and the sudden arrival of an undead –and he now understands what his wife means about this book being strongly counter to Uchiha sensibilities regarding necromancers– when he's jarred out of the novel by Izuna's chakra going flat.

No, not flat; _vacant_. Tobirama sets his book down and heads out to check on his wife. Getting to the music room is a little annoying since he can't go through her study; instead he has to go through her bedroom to reach the western engawa and then walk around the outside of the house.

Usually people only feel like this if trapped in a particularly strong genjutsu. But who is there strong and subtle enough to trap his wife, and how could he have failed to notice them?

The shōji on this side are open, a low tsuitate set out across the entrance to block the draft. Izuna is clearly visible, slumped before her altar and its gently burning incense with her forearms flat on the tatami, head resting on the floor with that unnerving empty feeling in her chakra. She's there, except she's also _not_.

Tobirama knows absolutely nothing about kami. Is this normal? Who does he _ask?_

Well, there's Naka-Dragon. Turning around, he quietly walks back into the house through his wife's bedroom, closes the shōji behind him and heads for the kitchen.

Naka-Dragon is kneading something in a mid-sized mortar, singing a song about rabbits making mochi. She looks up as he walks into view, and stops singing when he sits on the engawa facing her.

"What can I help you with, Tobirama-sama?"

"Is there anything you can tell me about the kami my Lord-Wife serves?" He asks, disliking the persistent emptiness on the edge of his range where Izuna should be.

Naka-Dragon eyes him thoughtfully. "Izuna-bi uses a range of different names and titles, but the _important_ one is apparently 'Imasu,'" she traces the 'being' kanji in mid-air, "as in 'iru'."

A kami whose name is 'exists' or 'present'? That is _not_ one Tobirama's heard of before. "My Lord-Wife doesn't _feel_ very present right now," he mutters.

Naka-Dragon considers this and nods. "Ah, gone walkabout again then; at least she wards the room properly."

"Walkabout?" That sounds _very_ alarming.

"Oh, she won't have gone far; not in physical terms at least. But it'll be far _enough_ that what she's experiencing won't be obvious on the outside. Don't worry about it; she always comes back."

The idea that Izuna has essentially _left her body_ is _not_ a comfortable one, but short of barging in to try and shake her awake –which he now knows is very likely to do nothing at all except distress him further when she fails to react– there's nothing Tobirama can _do_ about this.

"Does doing this _help_ her?" He asks a little desperately. If he can _rationalise_ this, if there's a _reason_ for it, then he can –will– learn to live with it, no matter how odd it feels to his chakra-sense; his wife is present yet not, the absence of her _self_ like a missing tooth and just as sore.

Naka-Dragon nods very firmly. "Oh yes Tobirama-sama; Izuna-bi's always _much_ more grounded after praying, and she doesn't go walkabout like this at all often, I promise. She's much more cheerful after, too; Madara-sama often suggests she take a few hours in front of her altar when she's having a bad few days."

Well in that case Tobirama is just going to have to learn to live with it. "Where can I get an incense stick?" If this kami is such a significant part of Izuna's life he should probably address a prayer of his own to them, out of courtesy if nothing else. If he has at least communicated his concerns and requested they watch over her, that will comfort him that he has _done_ something.

Naka-Dragon sets her work aside and walks across to the storeroom door. "Would you like lavender, ginger lily, sandalwood?"

"Is there star anise?" That is the incense he is most used to and it seems appropriate, given Izuna's chakra scent.

"I'll have a look; there should be, Izuna-bi keeps a larger range than most." She vanishes inside, returning a short while later with a ceramic bowl full of sand and a sturdy incense stick about as long as Tobirama's hand that does indeed carry a strong flavour of star anise, with a faint hint of agarwood and cinnamon. "Would you like me to light it for you, or will you do it from the iori?"

"I will light it from the iori." It is very kind of her to offer, but this is something new and unfamiliar that he is attempting so would rather take a little time to arrange both the room and his feelings before beginning.

He sets the incense bowl on the small chest Izuna provided for him to keep his notes in, the stick laid next to it, then takes a few moments to tidy away his books, straighten his kimono and compose his thoughts. Then he takes the stick and lights it in the iori, carefully carrying it back into his living room and pushing the unlit end of it into the bowl of sand.

It stays upright, which is a relief.

Then Tobirama kneels politely, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And another one.

The scent of star anise is strong, but the agarwood and cinnamon soften it into something that is almost restful. He's not entirely sure how to address this particular kami, but incense and manners are –so far as he is aware– universal.

He will do his best to express his hopes and feelings clearly.

By the time the incense has burned down he feels inexplicably comforted. Taking this as a sign that he has somehow been heard, Tobirama opens the shōji to dispel the scent a little and goes back to his reading.

* * *

Izuna does eventually come back to herself and get up; Tobirama lowers his book for several long seconds to pay close attention to her chakra. Naka-Dragon is right; his wife _does_ feel much more grounded now. Still bright and fiery, but less volatile; a banked fire rather than a fast-burning blaze. He tracks her through the house –and he appreciates that despite being locked out of his wife's study he can still sense her in there– and into the kitchen as he resumes reading, then lowers his book again as she leaves it and arrives at his door.

"Tobirama?" She asks.

"Come in, Izuna." He can smell she's brought him tea.

She opens the shōji to reveal senbei as well as tea on her tray –only one cup though– and he sets the book aside entirely; evidently she's heading out straight away.

"I _will_ be able to explain to you why I've been calling you 'husband' this afternoon," she says firmly, meeting his eyes as she pours the tea. "I could do it now, but I have already committed to visiting Naka-ba and Kiso will be home for lunch in a few hours, and I promised you more time than that."

"I don't mind waiting," Tobirama repeats; he minds even less now he _knows_ there is an answer to be had, and one Izuna seems to be comfortable with. Well, maybe 'comfortable' isn't the right word, but she seems to think this is the _truthful_ answer and he's rather have honesty than pretty lies anyway. What else can he –ah, of course:

"Kiss me?"

Izuna instantly shuffles closer and kisses him; Tobirama cups the back of her neck to keep her close and deepens it, drawing the moment out.

"I trust you," he confesses after finally pulling away.

His wife's eyes drop, but not in time to hide the blatant emotion painted across her features in response to his admission. "Thank you, Treasure," she says quietly; "I will do my best to honour that."

She does not say she trusts him; Tobirama honestly appreciates her evasion there. The seal on his back makes it clear she _doesn't_ trust him, or that if she does _trust_ him, it's that she trusts him to do his best to get away from her and harm the Uchiha as much as possible along the way.

A ceasefire is not a peace treaty. The Senju are still enemies with the Uchiha, despite having agreed to no longer clash on the field of battle. It is in some ways _kind_ that she has refrained from putting him in a position where he will have to actively choose between the clan of his birth and hers; not being _able_ to choose makes many things much easier for him, and other things so much harder.

He won't know for sure whether his wife _genuinely_ trusts him unless a peace treaty is signed. What she does then will reveal much.

He picks up the teacup. "I hope you enjoy spending time with your aunt."

"I will tell you all about it at lunch, Treasure."

And then he is alone again. More alone, as Naka-Dragon also leaves the grounds; presumably to acquire supplies for lunch or some such. Tobirama ponders the situation over his tea; _does_ he want to just sit here and read? Or does the prospect of causing a little mischief appeal?

He can't summon, so filling the bathhouse pool with cold water for the leopards to swim in will have to wait for another day. Picking all the flowers in the garden would only mean he has nothing to look at for the next few weeks, so he will save it for some occasion in which he desires to be spitefully clear about expressing his displeasure.

Well, there's always his wife's suggestion of swimming naked in the koi pond…

… maybe later. It will certainly get hot enough in the next month or so to justify such a thing.

After a little more thought, Tobirama settles on climbing one of the large, stately trees in the Amaterasu Residence's garden. He takes his book with him, so as to have something to do once he has found a suitably comfortable branch to sprawl on.

Getting _up_ a tree without chakra and while wearing a kimono is a little tricky, but today's kimono is a linen jōfu –and thus easily washed– and he _does_ know how to climb a tree without chakra. The tree he picks is a nice solid ume, lightly sculpted to be spreading rather than just tall, the large limbs holding up the lower canopy easily sturdy enough to take his weight.

He has to jump a few times to get enough momentum to drag himself upwards and onto a suitably sturdy branch, but once there he sprawls comfortably along his narrow perch and opens his book again.

Where had he got to…


End file.
